Like a farmer in a cornfield
You and I could never get lost
In grandma’s yard
This place is our dream

The autumn leaves fall in swirling
Patterns into the dewy ground
Their color reflected by light
Like a prism in the sun

The fresh scent of grass
Is what we inhale as we
Roll around in the early morning dew
Though it’s wet like melted snow

The wind whistles through the trees
Singing it’s ever so constant song
We run through the trees laughing
Like theres no end to the day

Back and forth
On the old white hammock
Listening to the song of the wind
That flows through us like blood

From the old picket fence
We watched silently as
Grandpa’s horses munch on grass
They were brown like brownies

Water trickled as you and I
Watered grandma’s flowers
Each with it’s own design
Like colorful abstract art

You and I stood in wonder
As white fluffy cotton wanders
Silently as it floats like a cloud
Down to the hard ground

Now no longer a child
But a teenager
We stare in wonder of
Grandma’s yard