In this field I stood,
Night looms, stronger winds.
Not a night like this seems real,
It had, when you shared you’re life.
The words that blossomed,
Still bloom, but now not heard.
In the weather, of change,
In the season, of change.

In the field I stood,
Day comes, brighter, still winds.
Not a day like this seems so real,
When I had you, and shared life.
The words that resembled,
Still grow now, what I remember.
In the picture, the same,
In the now, the same.

©2007, Ron Globe