Among the Wildflowers

Sophia Feller · poetry · To my grandfather, Paul Mascotti, a man who brings all the color and joy into my world.


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There are times
    (around 8:30 in the morning and 11:00 at night)
            in which I try
                to imagine that I am someplace nearly
                    silent.

Somewhere among the wildflowers.
    That I am sitting in the lush grass,
noticing how even a
                    single
                        lilac’s scent

intermingles with the sound
    of the river’s
        ebb & flow.

I could stay here forever, you know.
        Especially if there is

more than one
        forever
    for me to use, or throw
                            away.

I would like to think
        that I have just enough time left
            to lose a day
                or two.

To watch the dragonflies
            float above the water,
    and NimblyMakeTheirWay
                            out of view.

The life one creates
        is simply a byproduct
            of the options they choose.

As such, I’ll take one more moment
    (alone)
among the wildflowers
        before coming home to you.