Poetry

Maybe you do remember a field of maize
that stretches into the distance
where your father did take you by the hand
and at times did draw his fingers through your hair
where the memories do remain
in the thoughts of a child
from the cares of the world free
with hair blown into strings by the wind
but constantly you do live in a world of glass, steal and concrete
and forgotten are the days in the bright summer sun
but in our garden there is a flower
that looks like corn
where it comes out of the earth
and later does dazzle with amaryllis flowers.