. Fields of Grass In youth I ran through fields of grass, Convinced that I could fly, And endless were the days to pass Seen through my guileless eye. Childish thoughts and childish games, The fun went on and on and on, And all my friends and all their names And so much more is gone… is gone. With each new day, a new endeavor, Chasing dreams with help from Nike. Feeling I could live forever, Written in my blessed psyche. Never a thought to getting older, Never a fear of what’s ahead, Never the chill of winters colder, Never conceived of being dead. But aging is so bittersweet, A humbling, long… drawn-out affair. The grass now grows beneath my feet And weeds get tangled in my hair. My often horizontal stance, So effortless to stop… to stop, Has lost my feet the will to dance, My easy chair, an easy flop! In youth I ran through fields of grass, Gravity easy to defy, But now I sit upon my ass, Dreaming I once could fly. . . Like Flowers Time has passed me; where was I As it so softly trickled by. How did I not the signals see Of what would soon become of me, Reflected now before my eyes, Someone I hardly recognise. A face that now no longer hides, The cruel assault from ebbing tides. The eyes that smile cannot begin To hide the sadness deep within, Or wash away the dull regret Of some intangible vignette. Time has passed me, gone too soon From summer’s sun to winter’s gloom. Like fallen petals, limp with grime That once were brilliant for a time, Their faded beauty now austere, But they at least return next year. Then again, perhaps like me, They’re unaware of what might be, They’ve lost their bloom like bitter wine, Their days have come and gone, as mine, And they know not of what’s to come Upon the heels of death’s sad drum. But with the season of new birth, When life invades the frozen earth, Who knows, now tell, who really knows, Who comes and stays, who comes and goes, And who can say what, why or when, Perhaps like flowers I’ll bloom again… But time has passed me. . . Norma Pain was born in Liverpool, England and now lives in Parksville, British Columbia, Canada. Thirty of Norma’s poems were published by Dana Literary Society, between 2004 and 2007 and she was twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize by that same on-line poetry site. She self-published a book of rhyme in 2000 called Bulging Assets.