The sun is peaking through the thick green crown,

I wrinkle up my nose and stare into the bluest sky.

I hear my boys are laughing, climbing up and down,

The great oak tree. They’re playing ancient game: “I spy.”

 

My youngest stares into the field of reddish poppies,

His gaze is focused on the fuzzy figure down below.

He cries out suddenly, excited, and my oldest copies:

“I spy! I spy!” They squeal and run, their cheerfulness aglow.

 

I turn to watch them run to figure that approaches,

My smile gentle. The heart is swelling with adore.

They crush and hug, their happiness bewitches.

My love, my friend, their father, finally, came home.

 

The book falls down. I jerk awake with startled scream,

Still feeling lovely warmth of sweetest summer dream.