The Meadows Poem by Bhavika Sicka

A shade of pastel green stretched on,
Below the azure horizon,
As I stopped to ponder,
And take a more leisurely look,
At the verdant fields by the brook,
And the meadows yonder.

The pastures and the grazing lands,
The haystacks tinted shades of sand,
On which the cattle fed.
The merry maiden was picking corn,
Humming a tune, she seemed forlorn,
As she picked, beside the shed.

The sky that morn was crystal clear,
As I strolled along, and stopped to peer,
At the carriage on the path.
Which passed the naked sun baked boys,
Exuberant in their mirth and joy,
Having their midday bath.

Calm and peaceful, I ambled along,
And whistled the tuneful pleasant song
The maiden had hummed to me.
She had given me a lovely smile,
Which had lingered on, and lasted a while,
Remaining etched in my memory.

After all these years, even today,
I still cherish that peaceful day;
Beautiful in every way.
The acres of lustrous grass so fine,
And the honey coloured sunshine,
That led the cattle astray.