the blackbird sings of summer from the oak,
a ladybird cavorts upon the rose
and while the sunlight hours sweetly spoke,
i dreamt of meadows where the poppy grows.
i dreamt of tranquil moons and nightingales,
the sun an amber flame against the sky,
i dreamt of old romance and holy grails,
the evening closing in, the day drifts by.
the petals fall, soft pinks, confetti thin,
cool walls of fragrant blooms that fall too soon,
a gentle breeze that brushes on my skin,
reflections pale, a lazy afternoon.
my soul bathed clean, the sunlight blinds the eye
the wild rose must lament and so do i.