The Field of Yellow Poem

I wandered where the quiet hills dreamed,
And silence wrapped the earth in calm.
Until I found a golden sea,
A sea of light, a prayer in bloom.

The flowers rose, their faces bright,
They swayed in laughter with the breeze.
A thousand suns upon the ground,
A thousand hymns beneath the trees.

And though the world may weigh me down,
With troubles crowding every part,
I close my eyes, and see again
That quiet meadow I hold inside.

For beauty lingers past its day,
And joy returns when all seems lost.
One moment held in memory’s hand
Can hold a heart and carry it on.

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Shall I Compare You to a Morning in Spring Poem

Shall I compare you to a morning in spring? You carry a warmth that no season can hold, The sun is too harsh, the weather too fleeting,
Yet you remain constant, gentle, and bright.

The years may bring storms, and time may decay, Time may erase the works of our hands, But your truth endures past the rush of each day,
A presence no shadow can darken or shade.

Where beauty is fragile, it flickers, it bends, Yours is the flame untouched by cold. It lives in the echoes of love that transcends,
It burns in the heart when it speaks your name.

I have watched faces fade with the years, Shining for moments, then lost in the haze, Yet you are untouched by the vanity of days, our worth is not measured in passing praise.

Though time may etch lines upon the face,
Your soul holds a light that refuses to die,
The stories you’ve touched are more precious than gold,
They rise like the stars to the infinite sky.

So long as hearts beat and voices remain,
So long as love lingers in memory’s breath,
So long shall your being escape time’s domain,
Defying the silence and shadow of death.

And if all the world should forget to sing,
Still I would compare you to morning in spring.

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