Memories on a Wind

The wind circles around the various wildflowers surrounding me.

They sway and shake, while pieces break and fall.

A yellow flower next to a purple one; what a beautiful combination.

Dirt flings from the ground as the stems creak and leak.

The stems twist and turn to lay upon my head once again,

But it's not the same.

The smell is familiar, long forgotten in boxes upon boxes.

The wind whistles and whines, the twisted stems drift in the breeze.

A long green field overlooks the horizon,

Ashes are shed in memoriam,

Dirt kicks up and moves like an accessory.

Oh, how lovely it once was.