A field of daisies swaying,

Through clover in the breeze,

The sunshine warm and playing,

As the daisies meet the bees.

A corn field it stands swaying,

The wind howls them apart,

When night time comes a playing,

That's when the fun will start.

With moonbeam shadows swaying,

Upon the darkened land,

Alone the baby's playing,

And dreaming of the sand.

This night is filled and swaying,

With awed the thing to be,

As memories they start playing,

About the love I feel for thee

By JulieAnne:)

Copyright(c) 2002-2003 JulieAnne Priem All rights reserved.