Sometimes my belief
Is that grief
Conquers all.
Then I recall
The air
In late August
Carrying hay
And coming Autumn.
Such sweet air
Carries no despair.
Sometimes my belief
Is that grief
Conquers all.
Then I recall
The air
In late August
Carrying hay
And coming Autumn.
Such sweet air
Carries no despair.
I like this very much!
Thank you, Liz. I’m so pleased you like it. In retrospect I think that I should have perhaps entitled it “Despair” rather than “Grief”, but then I would lose the rhyme and I think that both emotions can, in some circumstances be almost interchangeable.
I agree that grief and despair are pretty much two sides of the same coin.
Thank you, Liz. I will keep the poem as originally written.
You’re welcome, Kevin. Good decision.
I remember carrying hay. My stepfather was a farmer. Harvest was always busy, and joyful.
I’m glad you have such happy memories of carrying hay as a child, Vivienne. I do suffer from Hay Fever. However, this does not diminish my love of the scent of hay.