Nothing, Simply Nothing, is Missing.

He sat in a field of blue wild flowers,
Just on the cusp of bloom.
Sunshine showers poured over the day,
Misting the field with gloom.

Something was missing in this beautiful field,
He just couldn't figure out what.
And while he sat up to decipher the faults,
It poked him right in the butt.

A child was running in circles with stones,
With no inhibitions at all.
Laughing and throwing these tiny rare rocks,
Right back up after the fall.

He realized why gloom had come with such beauty,
For he complicated this place.
Instead of letting the field be a field,
And enjoying the rain on his face.

He relearned a lot from that child that day,
To just take the simple as is.
Take life's giving gifts one give a time,
Just let it be what it is.

As we get older we forget the child,
We all aspire to be.
There was nothing missing in that beautiful day,
He had just forgotten to live simply.

We all have that child inside of our hearts,
The one we used to know.
Lets all run in circles with rare little stones,
Run free as we happily grow.