Memories of running through the fields  Wheat grass

and plucking up  

some wheat grass. 

Running it through my fingers 

picking some daisies, making daisy chains. 

Hiding in the long grass up to our waists. 

The sun always hot 

Looking down you would see a great big sun haze. 

Bleached grass burning in the scorching heat. 

Oh, summer seemed to last forever 

When I was a child 

As seen through a child’s eyes – Fill in the missing words