A rusted memory of a childhood laugh

A rusted board that held a child high

A field so vast, flowers barely grown half

A field that carries yet carries the bright innocence cry

Now old and brown, it stands empty

The breeze, the only melody heard

For maybe years passed a ten or twenty

Awaiting a laugh from third

Until then, the sunflowers shall shield it’s innocent memory

Standing guard of the distant laugh from what felt like a century