Before we continue: I don’t know if

this was a memory or a dream.

Maybe it’s both, maybe it’s neither

Nevertheless, this meadow has been a part

of me since I was quite young.

A long stretch of green grass spotted

with honeysuckles, whose fragrance lingered on

my clothes long after I left

Mountains marked the edge of the meadow

boulders jutted through the grass like knives.

It scared me, just a little, to see something imposing

over the peace of the greenery.

But to this day, almost thirty years later,

I still see the meadow,

in my dreams, and

in my memories