timelockagain
Lost Horizons
Category: /General/
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On top of the hill where the birch trees grew
When I was but a boy,
Zucchini ripe in the garden
Where the passerby would pinch;
Marigolds lined a well-defined plot
That rain would turn into mud,
While aspen blazed in the months of Autumn,
Pathways blazed with fire.
Short patches of scrub brush dotted the land
And quaking frogs sang,
Each bring a nostalgia
For columbine-strewn days on the wide prairie,
That are forever gone,
Where the blue skies cupped down to meet the earth
And marked our skyline.
08 31 2018
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