What the Grass Reminds Me Of

I stepped outside, the sun broke through,

with whispers of warmth, and a touch of dew.

Each blade beneath me, a green conversation,

reminded me of summers, lost to hesitation.

Childhood laughter, long buried beneath,

clung to my ankles, the roots of my grief.

What joy did I take, and what did I leave?

The worries wrapped tight, a tangled weave.