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  • By David B. Gosselin

Fields & Other Poetry


The lavender serenely sways

On quiet fields and sleepy dales,

But dreams awake me from my slumber,

Causing the fields and skies to pale.

When will I wake and find the dream,

Which sultry day can never break

And darkening night never conceal?

I'd live that dream and never wake.

A Field

A breeze makes it way through the wilderness,

Frolicking with young boughs and virgin springs;

Bees descend from their high altars of gold

Like angels offering their sweet blessings.

I watch the dense-grown fields of lavender,

Smelling the sweet perfume their beauty yields.

Oh! how the scene brings back such memories—

Memories of those treading other fields.

David Gosselin is a writer, researcher and poet based in Montreal, Canada. He writes on Substack at Age of Muses.

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