A Thought..

When ever I see an empty field
it is my grandfathers backyard
I am running around having fun
enjoying life taking in the smell
newly blossoming honeysuckles
fresh cut grass
my grandfathers calling me in
for a lunch
with his almost hoarse voice
standing and calling in pain
but that’s not my story
my story is about
the emptiness of the field
its keeper is gone and passed away
flowers no more and uncut grass
hate burnt into the ground
like old grass fires…