A Field of Gold

They are everywhere,

The gold flowers.

They cover everything,

The greenish-yellow grass,

The dark brown earth,

Even their own brilliant green leaves.

Gold is all I can see.

It is both an amazing and slightly terrifying sight.

I take a deep breath,

Inhaling the fresh air.

I step through the field of flowers,

Careful not to crush any beneath my feet.

It is nothing new to me.

I walk these fields every day,

Escaping the dullness of mundane life.

I reach the top of the hill,

Sitting under the tree,

The shade protecting me from the sun's rays.

I watch as the wind causes the flowers to ripple.

I pull out my notebook from my bag,

Resuming my marigold drawing.

The pencil strokes up and down the page,

Filling the white of the page with lines and curves,

Creating something new.