Haying Days

While the Sun Shines - Paintings by Poppy

Could you meet me at the crab apple tree,

Where you and I grew up?
Could you meet me down in the tall hay fields,

Where life was simpler still?
Could we go back to those days?
Can we go back to our haying days?

Those days, we wandered the hills and the breezes were made for us.
Those days, our bicycle rides couldn't have lasted for long enough.

Those days, we laid on our backs counting stars 'til it was too late.

Those days, trust was enough and our parents knew everything.

Those days, we caught fireflies only to let them go again.
Those days, mudpies were the rage in our very own mud cafe.
Those days, I cried when the forts were so cool that I couldn't come in.
Those days, our dogs chased the stones that we shouldn't have thrown but did.

Could you meet me at the crab apple tree,

Where you and I grew up?
Could you meet me down in the tall hay fields,

Where life was simpler still?
Could we go back to those days?
Can we go back to our haying days?

I want to drink from that thermos that my whole family did;

I want to smell that hay that got in our clothes and always itched our skin;
I want to watch my Mom and Dad walk hand in hand;
I want to hold a buttercup underneath my sister's chin.

Can we go back to then? Can we feel those things we once did?
Can we go back again? Can things be simpler like they once have been?