Between Daisies and Poppies

 
 
Between poppies and daisies, Spring cheerfully gives broad smiles, on every spot seen, in ev'ry perfume scented, in every puff of air blown......
 
On the lea, spring beauties and primrose grow wildly free,  like being scattered randomly by an ecstatic bee,and showered by morning dew under a twilight moonbeam..........
 
In my home village, where Roman stones and ancient bones were deeply buried, with care less given, while only vestiges from heydays and carved cubic stones, from an era that brazed the African north, a square garden fenced within irons bars, harbours so many archeological remains, nestled awfully amid growing shrubs
and  wild growth, but joyfully and tenderly highlighted with poppies and daisies, and so many other species, that bring a sense of blunt, and romantic, yet nostalgic vision to the place all around..
 
Spring this years has been so long awaited, so wistfully yearned for, as flowers have deserted our town for so many years, leaving a stark feeling of wild cement, and harsh sentiment and  gaping void......
 
I remember those days of school, right here inside the fenced roman enclosure, we could be easily  lost inside the tall grass and the growing flowers, but as time is only a passage from child to adult, from wild innocence to wise experience, from clear romanticism to chaotic modernism, even the flowers have gradually lost their fragrance, and the less care given to them is taking alarming scales, among a world who don't see Beauty but only-self satisfaction, being blindly self-centered and introspective, taking  them away from Nature Truth and Poetry.

https://youtu.be/CEoIhPmwfns