Amid the wavering bluebells
And the thickets of long blades
With their heavy coats of dew,
I amble slowly,
Caring neither about time nor space.

The wind guides me,
Softly pushing me
In a direction I have not been,
Pressing gently against my back,
Like a mother’s loving hand.

I enter a small hollow,
Where the skies
Have left a tiny pool of tears,
And the grass has already drunk
To its content.

There, I see the mother and her child.
Sensing a presence, they raise their heads
And, seeing no stranger,
They are not afraid.
Just as the tiny pool, I, too, belong.

I gaze into their chocolate wells,
Searching for something I have lost.
Or maybe it is only hidden,
Deep within the confines,
Forgotten amid broken dreams.

Satisfied, we part in opposite directions.
Their thirst has been quenched,
My hunger has been sated.
I stare at the sky, as the sun ascends,
Knowing I have found myself.