Lost among the meadow flowers,

love whispers.

Harvested

by spirit hand

to drift on sorrow's breeze,

he moves,

through cornflower blue

and poppies red,

in search of

true love strayed.

She stands,

where love lies quiet

and through

a veil of tears,

in meadow close

where soft air stirs,

she notes a gentle sway,

of cornflowers blue

and poppies red.