Harvesting Dreams

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
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2011
About this poem:
Fields and streams and dreams...the beckonning New England Countryside calls to me on my small rural farm.

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Comments (4)

cafetwo2010
The fields are ripe for harvest Yank..Make those dreams come true! Deep passionate poem my friend.thumbs up wine
lucy777
excellent poetry! thanks for sharing
Odette67
Truly lovel poem Yankee...you live in a beautiful part of America.purple heart
Yankee4you
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.
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