The Farm

I remember long, hot summer days:
Without a care to the hustle of the world,
simply wandering one of many ways;
escaping to nature whenever I could.

No judgement or worry I found in the trees-
without which the sun would have burned-
my humble facade, the gentle release,
as the fickle seasons were turned.

The grass grows longer in places without-
on hilltops and meadows a warm breeze
blowing my whimsical imagination about;
a lonely afternoon passing with ease.

I long for those days, the simple and free;
The peace of the grass under shady elm tree.