I owe it to my grandma

I walk graciously out

of my grandma's house.

The air so fresh it makes me

not want to return home.

It actually feels like summer here.

I proceed down the creaky stairs

and onto the grass. The singular blades so velvety, 

I can walk with no shoes on. From here I can

see the fuzzy, mountains brooding at me;

those always scare me at night.

I peer out to the fields of surprising wonder,

as I am not allowed past the gate.

The mellow breeze brings the scent of

ripened cherry tomatoes.

I long to rebel and go fourage those delicious rubies,

however, the utter fear of my grandma not letting

me coming back is what keeps me put. 

My fascination doesn’t hold back me, though.

I begin to roll down the hill as if I am the tree

my grandma cut down last spring all by herself.

Plummeting down, I make it to the pond. The welcoming 

water lilies lie farther out than I expected.

Their delightful beauty lives to see another day, as I am

planning to make a flower crown with them for my grandma.