The Pond
It was my field
Tall wild grasses
And flowers
The scent I remember
Nobody new
The path I tramped
A pond at its end
I could run
Arms stretched
Happy eyes
To the sky
There I could sit
Eat an apple
From a forgotten tree
Was long from
The sorrow and anger
Alive in the Adult world
A mad torrent
The married two
Too young
For contemplation
Free from thinking
There was nothing
But the pond
And I
The Pond - in reflection