Twas a beautiful day,
the sun shining, the wind flowing through her hair.
Sitting with her young son,
the two dined upon a gingham blanket.
Under the trees whilst the birds sung a tune of gaiety,
they enjoyed their small sandwiches and the sounds of nature.
Outside in this weather they were at peace,
you could say nothing but the least.
The boy running over hills of green,
his mother following him behind.
Crossing a bridge of water lilies,
they admired the flowers below.
They stopped and stared,
trying to take in the indescribable beauty of the flowers.
This was their happy place.
Their little secret,
which they shared between themselves.
No one else knew of this little patch of heaven.
Because if they did,
it would no longer be as beautiful as it was.
It would be full of buildings,
urbanized, filled with people.
They kept it between them,
and stood on the hill,
gazing at this breath-taking wonderland.
Sad, they left their slice of heaven,
but there was always tomorrow,
a new day filled with this place.
I like both of these paintings--in fact, I believe I had the woman with the parasol piece on my bedroom wall when I was your age, or one very similar. I think of the scenario you've described often--lovely places that have been taken over by progress. It's nice to think there are a few happy hiding places still out there.
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