The Fields of Sleep

I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,

The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,

And all the earth is gay

"The daisies are very pretty and I placed them on the breakfast table," said the elderly woman reappearing at the front doorway with a tray of shortbread cookies and a glass of milk.

"You are welcome, ma'am," the small girl said shyly.

"There is no need to be bashful with me, Agnes," the old woman said. "I remember you."

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)