How would it be to walk amongst the soft summer grass
tickling at our bare feet playfully?
To weave around the sprouting trees and hear the crunch of leaves
as the sun beams down its heat?
Your eyes would be lanterns,
guiding me when the dark cloak of night
envelopes us in a warm embrace;
your laugh echoed melodies of ringing bells
as we started our race across golden fields, under the sky,
to wink back at the specks of shiny pearl,
to lay underneath the windmill and hear the rush,
the blow of air through our dancing hair,
even the ticking clock not handing us a care.

But. . .would you stay in time to see the leaves change,
waltzing with melancholy droning across the front porch
where memories lay splattered in drops of rain
or in black-painted tears of pain
as the trees would give us one final wave
before shrivelling back into their flooded graves?
Why would it be so, or do I really want to know
why you would leave me frostbite in the snow,
waiting for the hail to overtake me,
for the sharp slap of reality to stake me.
the clouds hang low, sagging on their tears, as it all settles;
we are broke from the seasons, parted by this cold wall
that I want to take down brick by brick,
but my hands are numb, fog too thick.
It clouds the pathway in my mind where I recall
those beloved summer days I achingly long to return to,
for the sunshine and sparkling smiles of you;
but you broke the rules of the game, ran too far
to disappear in the dark out of sights from my heart,
and all that time I sat in solitude, in bitter waiting,
when I should’ve known our days were fading.

So, I really must ask, how it would it be to walk
once again with you upon soft summer grass?
If only we could make it last,
but I’m not longer stuck in the past.
How would it be, I am forever pondering,
if you didn’t run away so far, so fast?