Stood in the middle of an open field
Blossoming towards stark depths of night
Wistful of treasures that lay ahead
In a lovers embrace, entwined
Thoughts cast not backwards but towards time ahead
Of crisp linen sheets upon an oversized bed
Of waking each morning to an innocent smile
To a heaven attached to life
Wistfulness has its price.
Life goes on, within even open fields
Clouds darken the clarity of moonlight
And blossoms fall to earth
Future becomes present and present the past.
And plans can be missed
Knelt in the middle of an open field
Grasping at roots and raising them up
Desperate to grow back yesterday
To nurture a family gone
Thoughts grasp at memories that never were
Times not spent here but encompassed in an embrace
Where flesh, now taught and weathered, is strong
And heaven meant pleasure not death
All things cease eventually
Time passes, for everyone everywhere.
Skies darken and lights snuff out
Figures fall and fade
today becomes yesterday, tomorrow today
And so it ends
Why must we spend our time in open fields?