Delicate wings beat

Like dying heart’s last endeavor.

Air as thick as viscous honey

Drizzled slowly over grandpa’s best

Those thoughtless Sunday’s

Of Spring’s short expedition.

They fluttered through gardens

Where mother’s sowed

And great minds once wandered.

Freedom subsided there

Long before psyche ascertained it.

Soaring in exquisite colors

That only nature could produce

Unlike grandma’s homemade

Italian dinner; sauce and pasta.

Birds of the strawberry vines

From eggs of a different essence

Little sister’s favorite.

World so big to eyes so small

Like memories of my childhood.

Nature’s beauty omnipresent,

Daily life irreplaceable.