Along the path behind my home,

The wild lime green bends.

Surrounded by golden poppies a throne

Wrapped in overlapping threads.

A concrete path laid before,

Its white velvet left unscathed,

As I walked along the dirt shore,

Wavering under the sun's wrath.

But alas! A sudden wind.

Away as the seeds of a dandelion,

Past where the poppies bind,

Floating lightly into the horizon.