Images in fields

Images in fields

Rain-lashed, wind-driven, storm-torn the croft still stands

Memories of an untamed youth cling to the aging mind

Walking with a sweetheart across drifting sands

So much I remember, fond reminiscence of a letter unsigned

Sun’s rays stream like beams beneath the barren boughs of beech

Across muddied ditches and fields of dainty daffodils

Her beauty always seeming to float beyond my reach

My mind mesmerized, captured in dreams of thrills

Her white cotton dress floating like a snowflake over cornflowers

Like blue polka dots inviting and drawing me near

No longer imprisoned in her father’s ivory towers

I cry out with her name but I know she can’t hear

Has the stream of consciousness at this moment run dry?

Wait! Her pretty form dances among poppies in the field

Love gave me such a moment beneath a cloudless sky

Passions from a summer where our future was not sealed

I wonder, will my thoughts slowly turn to cosmic dust

Do I believe the dream, or is the dream to be my belief

If this is trickery of the mind, then why so unjust?

And if all would end, could that really bring relief?

David Hopcroft January 2012