I have walked in partial promenade on paths long overgrown with prickly dried grass, long untouched by skies’ tears of mirth and sorrow laughing trees and mourning grins, that pass uncultivated fields where once husbandmen trod yielding grain finding life in nature’s care. Now vines grow unheeded, unchecked as grass weaves itself into and out from the drying soil. There flowers grew by the way small spring-fresh bouquets of life shining in the sun bright violets, marigolds and primroses contrasted among field-green blades of grass quivering and swaying, blown as though gently by the wind, standing memories. Children once played here, now no longer do their voices cry mirthful in fields of buzzing insects innumerable. Echoing from path to field to neighbour’s meadow. swift thin legs skipping and leaping, like green grasshoppers through swishing grass hiding in the grass and running, soaring through forests of wizened trees, sagacious gray-barked overseers who loved youth’s song though it unrooted their slumber alas now magic-woven tree trunks stand as guardians of deepened glades, sun shining through leaf-wrought canopies as tunnels or broad rays of golden illumination to green-grass laden floors of the palace of mother earth and her wise consort elven born, lands once held dear by multitudinous souls now thirsty for a single water-laden touch of whispery air to breathe life to its roots and stems