Lay me down upon grass so sweet,
Beneath these singing poplar leaves.
For my bones cry lo, bring me home,
I wish to feel this earth so green.
Trickle of water carves through dirt,
As we laugh at such gnarled roots so deep.
Throw your worries upon this leaning fence,
And chase me barefoot through the weeds.
Surly as sun rises up high or sets down low,
I’ll always breathe ‘neath a poplar tree.
So take my hand and lie yourself down,
We’ll find peace in this place so green.
Down a dusty winding lane,
We’ll find peace beneath each poplar tree.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.