Wild blooms embroider the fields blue and claret,

As if painted with a floral palette.

Ephemeral beauty, here time stands still,

This place of joy upon the hill.

A living tapestry of cornflower blue and poppy red,

Each flower tilting their face, turning their head.

 

Amongst the crimson petals and chick weeds,

Interlace a thousand oval heads of seeds.

Scattering their glitter upon the breeze,

Tossing it with considerable ease.

A subtle whisper, a soft poetry,

This language of flowers, speaking candidly to me.

 

A truth that so many before me had sought,

An epiphany which could not be bought.

For in me those very seeds have sown,

Planted here, taking root, they’ve grown.

To keep this beauty of which I saw,

Etched in my mind, forever more.

 

Preserved in me as time resumes,

So I can revisit the place, where hope forever blooms.