Buttercup Crowns

Sweet, yellow flowers dappled a hillside,

Peeking through mist of a waterfall,

A dreamy place where love could hide.


Under shower of waters, you kissed me,

We floated among lilies on crystal pond,

Protected in seclusion, by guard of quiet trees.


We weaved garlands of the lemon colored flowers,

Wore them upon heads like native crowns,

Wild buttercup royalty, always, and for hours.


Years ran away from us, as we grew old,

My king sailed away, into forever dreams,

And I come lay crowns upon his stone.

–Joan Wiley

Published by Joan Wiley

I am a writer primarily in fiction, poetry, and motivation.

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