Argon[one]'s photostream  

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There is a field with tones of brown and gold,
with islands of bark, intermingled with their
stories of old.

As I hike through its grasses, I see signs of the past,
when men and their families walked in tall grass.

They hunted and killed, they built houses with trees.
I could see all of this through the slow falling leaves.

It is time for solace, time to relax, as
I walk through this field and its history filled grass.

They had come by the many to create a new life by this
amazing field that I now hike. Each with a struggle,
each with a path, I can still see them as I
stand in this field of gold grass.

The seasons are changing, the colors now white as I
think of those people, their struggles and plight.

The field now empty and the lakes are like glass
as I stand alone in this field of tall grass.

Charles Dennis

5829

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Walk gently over the flowers of life,
Take each step with ease,
Run rampantly, forcefully over the path,
Creating your very own breeze.

Take the path less trodden,
Or follow the common road,
All signs point to somewhere,
All can handle your load.

In the end the choice is now,
Not for left or right,
But for something true to you,
That gets you through the night.

Just don’t break the flowers,
Or swelter in the heat,
There are no excuses,
Only you control your feet.

– Tina Louise

5816

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