Wild woodbine was beyond my reach
in the thick hedges round Lough Gill.
The heavy scent filled the house for days
when my father brought it in
and it stayed fresh far longer
Because I loved the delicate
pink and white wild rose
he picked it too, cursing the thorns, muttering
“it dies too soon,
you’d be better leaving it alone”.
Yet once, when my mother
swept its petals from the floor
I saw him rescue one
and place it carefully
in the small wallet
where he kept her photograph.
i walked the barley field standing oh so bold
blowing in the breeze with its leaves of gold
sun was beating down as i walked along my way
through the fields of barley on a summers day
it was very peaceful it made me feel so whole
such a tranquil feeling it reached in to my soul
such a lovely feeling it made me feel so free
walking through the barley brought all this to me