The field

There was a field in our hometown

Where in spring all flowers blossomed

Pink and white, sparkling glamorously

In the sweet-scented air

We would play hand in hand in our field

As the wind gently touches the grass,

Never letting our hands fall apart

Like butterflies we flutter smoothly

Trailing a passage of grey stones

Underneath our feet, we stumble upon

A big gigantic tree where you hold me

Tight underneath the twinkling stars

I made a promise to the dear lords,

I will love you forever and continue

To flutter with you in this secret field

Hand in hand till the close of day

Our field will always remain the same

--Mary M., Adult