Time is forever moving on Flowing like a rolling stream With what purpose does it wear Washing our given years away Life's so fresh and so clear Gurgles along its melodic theme Many green buds bursting forth On a sunny brae of dreams With gentle soft lyrics hear What songbirds lightly beam Giving energy some steam To compliment a living day Doesn't time thus fly away Forgotten dreams will all die Useless lives like old leaves Falling in an open field So harvest all your dreams Mowing them makes grass into hay For that will get you through Until your last dreamy day
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Posted: Oct 2011
About this poem:
Fields and streams and dreams...the beckonning New England Countryside calls to me on my small rural farm.
Cafewo It's a joyous season when our dreams ripen and bear fruit.
Thank you Lucy !!
Odette, Our rolling hills blanketed with forests, valleys filled with many lakes and ponds rival any in the world...I just hope the many small farms can survive unspoiled against the backdrop and march of encroaching development.
Comments (4)
Thank you Lucy !!
Odette, Our rolling hills blanketed with forests, valleys filled with many lakes and ponds rival any in the world...I just hope the many small farms can survive unspoiled against the backdrop and march of encroaching development.