Where The Green Grass Grows....

I remember a time not so awful long ago
Of a place I use to visit where the green grass grows
Tucked away in the hills hidden from sight
Alone in this field the world was alright

Covered in clovers of purplish blues
Distant patches of flowers of ever hue
It reminded me of a blanket my grandmother once had made
As if placed here upon the ground in this meadow it laid

The grass dances slowly with the wind that sets the lazy pace
I’d drift away for hour’s sun shining warmly on my face
Butterflies stealing kisses from each and every flower
Squirrels playing a game of tag among their wooded towers

A little brook tucked away in the corner provides a melody
Of rain drops once held captive that have now been all set free
They gather in the meadow to form a shimmering pool
Its here the fish will join them at least while there in school

Crickets sing in harmony as fire flies dance about
Joined in by the whippoorwill and the occasional hoot owls shout
Sunlight slowly fades away as the moon light takes control
Every star comes out to watch as if their on patrol

Sometimes when I reminisce I think about that place
Tucked away in the hills the sun light on my face
In my mind I’ll take a trip it’s to this place I’ll go
Back to the place of my memories
“Where the green grass grows”

by Poison 9901

Comments (3)

I am in total agreement with both Brian and Bonnie. The imagery your words evoke is strong. I am envious but at the same time so happy for you that you can affect people as you obviously have been doing.for a long while. Just wonderful.
just as bonnie says you paint such a vivid picture.....like i can close my eyes and see excatly what your writting! ! ! thnx for sharing! ! ! Brian
I think its called talent when you can write something that makes a person feel like their seeing what your writing....nicely done!