The Rustling of Grass

I cannot tell why,

But the rustling of grass,

As the summer winds pass

Through the field where I lie,

Bring to life a lost day,

Long ago, far away,

When in childhood I lay

Looking up at the sky

And the white clouds that pass,

Trailing Isles of grey shadow

Across the gold grass….

O, the dreams that drift by

With the slow flowing years,

Hopes, Memories, tears,

in the rustling grass.