Garden Poem

Everyone wonders what life really does have to offer and wonders what the meaning of "The Perfect Life" is. The truth is there isn't one.

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The Fields Of Happiness

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Published: August 2009

People say it is a field,
A lovely field of happiness.
With flowers spread,
Throughout this field.
Skies,
So clear and blue.
The sun,
Shining ever so brightly.
Birds chirping as if it was
The first of spring.
Rabbits hopping around
As if they could go on
For forever and eternity.
As the creatures enjoy,
Enjoy this wonderful place,
For it makes everything
Joyful, exciting, and happy.
A dark cloud has come,
Taken up the rays of sunlight.
With one cloud,
Brings many clouds.
The flowers,
Have now died
And weeds,
Have taken their place.
The skies
Are no longer clear and blue.
The sun
No longer shines with the rays,
The rays from the heavens above,
Instead it rains,
Rains as if it were meant to do so.
Birds no longer chirp as if it was
The first of spring.
Rabbits don't feel the need to hop,
For they won't go on,
For forever and eternity.
People say it's like a field,
A lovely field of happiness.
They don't understand,
For every field of flowers,
There is a single weed,
That one weed eventually spreads,
And takes over the flowers
Replacing them as if,
They have never existed.
For every time,
It is sunny and blue,
There will always be
That one small, dark cloud,
Hovering right near by.
There is no such
Thing as a lovely field of happiness,
Every field has its flaw.
It is a field everyone lives in,
Some point in life.
Once you are in this field,
There is no way of escaping,
There is no way in making it perfect,
For there will always be that one,
That one weed or cloud,
Standing in your way,
Of perfection and happiness

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