Fields of Life
to wend through golden grasses of my past
with chill winds at my back from o'er the hill
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
thus far behind me stands that boy, miscast
while just a jester, much too bright and shrill
to wend through golden grasses of my past
the latter lad, thus pressed to love too fast
so saved his heart to burnish, soft and still
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
he stumbled into manhood, loves amassed
with wisdom gained from tragedy and thrill
to wend through golden grasses of my past
encumbrances and burdens grew too vast
while finding warmth in darkness and a pill
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
so now I cross the fields of time, steadfast
renewed with all the love one heart can will
to wend through golden grasses of my past
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last.
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