An Open Book

I took a book from off the shelf,
It opened to a page
And what I saw transported me
Back to a happy age.

It wasn't words or pictures
That my memories caressed,
But a flower you picked long ago
And in the pages pressed.

And in my mind I pictured you,
So young and without care,
Dancing through the meadows
With the sunlight in your hair.

You picked a single poppy
And I watched you running past.
I'll always wonder if you knew
That day would be your last.

Your smile was extra wide that day,
The sparkle in your eyes
Was brighter than the sunshine
And was bluer than the skies.

And in my mind for ever more
That's how you'll always look,
And you always come to me
When I open up that book.

by Terry Donovan

Comments (1)

Terry I have read your poem and I really enjoyed it, beautiful sentiment and such lovely words, and of cource one of my favourit flowers the poppy, great write cheers Sylvie