Searching For That Special Gift

In the early morning while the dew lies upon the dark ground,
and the sun its low upon the gleaming horizon I leave upon
my wonderful journey to find that special gift for my lady.
Not for roses of red do I wander the earth, nor for diamonds,
gold,silver and priceless pearls do I look, rather for that
fragrant and sweet flower that Margaret most adores.
All day long I walk the fiery golden fields past the old
weathered fence posts that mark the farmer's golden fields.
Briskly I walk through the deep green of the forest and past
the sparkling waterfall upon the rocky grey hills searching
for that most precious gift.
As the sun reaches its zenith at the hot noon hour I meander
past the crystal clear sparkling azure waters of the lake
searching for that special gift that Margaret so desires
and cherishes above all.
As the purple darkness begins to claim dominion over
the land at long last I come upon an old path littered
with pale dusty yellow straw grass and little brownish
green shrubs and to my amazement I see them sitting
tall and beautiful beside the old worn out path dancing
in the brilliant golden fields.
They joyously sway to and fro in the gentle spring
breeze with lovely moon light reflecting off of their
lovely sunny yellow faces,with gleaming white petals
waving happily to me.
Excitedly I run to where they sit smelling the wonderful
scent of their sweet perfume and one by one I pluck them
from the fertile burnt umber ground smiling triumphantly
to myself for having found that precious gift that will
show my Margaret how much she means to me.
Slowly with wondrous mirth in my heart I arise and begin
my journey home.
Back up the old forgotten trail I go trotting past the
lovely blue waters of the silvery moonlit lake,over the
softly rolling blue-green hills barely acknowledging the
crashing song of the waterfall, and paying no mind to
the soft sweet perfume of the evergreens on the hill.
Finally after many hours of searching I return to my
little red farm house gently tucked safely into the
golden hills and see my lovely lady swinging upon the
old porch swing singing a sweet old hymn with a wondrous
sparkle in her haunting green eyes.
I marvel at her soft lilting voice as Margaret sweetly
calls out to me with lovingly out stretched arms to
welcome me home.
Quickly I run to where she expectantly stands and on
bended knee offer her my precious little loving gift
of sparkling white daisies and orange-red marigolds
to show her my sweet love and
just how much she means to me.
Donavon Scott Vinson

~~For my lovely Margaret~~

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