Wildflower
Edward Berge, Sculptor
At sight of your form, I seem now to see
A bright stretch of color across a broad lea,
Where the wildflowers sway to and fro in the breeze,
Where the winds sing soft lullabies up in the trees
Where all is as fresh, free and wholesome as you,
Little Wildflower, blooming, so sweet and so true.
And I come from the flight of my far-away dream
As I look and I listen, to me it would seem
That I hear a small voice in a most charming way
Say, “Goodmorrow! Goodmorrow! Take time while you may,
Just step up yet closer; I’ll give you a chance
To have something far sweeter than just a bright glance.”