Buttercups
By Cinara
Field of Buttercups I’ll never find another field Of buttercups of yellowness Where I can sit by old stone barn In shadows of its mellowness And read my book of poetry In solitude and pensive mood Each line is wine meant for the heart And for the soul a wanted food A place where field is all my own Not even sparrow interrupts There’s no more peaceful place I know Than a field that’s laced with buttercups Written March 22nd, 2002 © on Mar 22 2002 12:10 AM PST 0 • 10
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"Field of Buttercups..."