A Field Of Flowers Poem by Barry Middleton

a field of flowers speaks to me
a muted memory from the past
when summer was a child's bright toy
that seemed to fade and flee too fast

for all year long I counted time
with hash marks striking off the days
as I awaited patient June
to set the meadowlands ablaze

with school time obligations done
and spring and dogwood past their prime
I made my way into the hills
where nature yet composed its rhyme

it rested just below the path
that years before had been a road
a clearing faithful as the sun
displayed once more its motherload

the garden knew no gardener's care
beyond the majesty of grace
the seasons were its destiny
and no one knew its hiding place

but now those hills are gentrified
another man has claimed my spot
and built a home to call his own
and tamed my precious meadow lot