In Flowered Fields

The face that was familiar is no more Yet in my dreams ,we amble through bright fields Where cornflowers and blue linseed softly grow The face that was familiar is no more The emptiness and loss, confused, real The face that was familiar is no more Yet in my dreams ,we wander through flowered fields The hand that once held mine I still do feel Warm with tapered fingers and hard nails That death was near you did not then reveal The hand that once held mine I still can feel The memory impressed like iron or steel You were growing colder,oh,so pale. The hand that once held mine I think I feel Warm with tapered fingers and hard nails