I miss a place I used to go,
A meadow, sweet, and lost in time,
Hot in June,
Warm in Fall,
Enchanted in December…
And delightful in May.
But I moved from my small town,
Many years ago,
And at first,
In all the excitement,
My meadow left my mind.
Except in dreams, sometimes,
It must have touched me,
As I would wake up hurting in my heart.
With the scent of wild clover in the room.
And I was puzzled..
I know now it was my meadow,
My lost flower-jungle meadow,
Calling me.
Touching me,
As I slept..
Saying to me,
Come home.
Bring your bare feet and thermos of tea,
Just be meadowsweet,
again…

by Donna Earle

The little girl
Swept the sidewalk with her scooter.
From the opposite side
A boy on his bicycle.

One day they collided
And laughed and said hi.
The scooter and the bicycle
Laid side by side.

The grown woman
Strolled along the sidewalk so.
From the opposite side
A young man.

The woman asked the man
If he didn’t used to ride a scooter.
The man asked her hand
In marriage.

by Vera Sidhwa