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.