The Rustling Field

A rustling field blanketed with the white powdery substance of my youth
Blown away by the incandescently wild behavior of my childish winds.
Dreaming often at night of flying o'er what seemed like blazing tree tops.
I would see th' normal humans beseeching each other of past sorrows. Pity...

I missed that old field, which my parents received due to inheritance.
I remember it as often as it snows over here in "The Lone Star" state.
The lack of fields often brings an unrest within me; The city's dull...
There aren't enough snow days to remind me of fields of my childhood.

A blistering sky exhibiting light displays that would shake the souls of the most brave.
"Mommy! Daddy! Thun'er." the reply, "Yes, son... thun'er". You're cute when young.
You could look around and see how many mirrored imaged people walk this Earth,
Though they don't dream like a child anymore, they still carry on the same fears. Pity...

Restless oceans unleash towering, tidal waves upon placid lava, which will ignite.
Have you ever just calmly watch an elder walk across the room? So mild, yet cautious.
Wisdom eking out their pores and wrinkles, which at one point was their beauty.
Now their immense pride and glory are attained not through actions of now, but of past.

A soft wind, a loud crack, and a crash. Life's over and before the crash you rewind...
You go through all the times of sorrow and regret, where mountains bore down.
The memories of your childhood seem to be resulting in mixed emotions in soul...
Deaf filled eardrums detect the softest wind. Your heart cracks. Your body crashes.