Old friends

Sometimes words come like friends
Sharing old cherished memories.
The blossom on the lawn,
The fragrance of cut grass,
The long summers in the fields,
And all the trees we grew up with
That never seemed to change.
Still there in our hearts.
Such dear old friends.


Text and photograph (Lake District, GB) © Mirino, March, 2012

1 comment:

S. R. Piccoli said...

How true, my friend!