field of rosemary

Field of rosemary, allow me to drown
In your tranquil sea of reminiscence.
My impending dotage holds me down, so
Dear field, return me my juvenescence:
Let me walk through the halls of remembrance,
Garnished by crayon art and smiling faces.
I long to hide in this sifted semblance
Rid of senescence and cornered places.
Take me back to those flaxen-yellow rooms:
The hallmark of youth that was so fleeting.
Darling rosemary, lead me to my tomb;
Memory does not compare to being.
It's an erstwhile realness that I crave;
I wave goodbye from a contented grave.