Young Summer Sun
A face so pale, a face so pure. Under the blue
of sky in the long field grass, our youth galore.
Innocence and sheer beauty combined. A
moment of magic cast deep within my mind
The beauty of which once I knew before the
darker days grew and grew.
Rolling in the long, tall grass, running in the fields
Kissing under the evening stars, swimming in the
cool night stream. Looking in your eyes where all
my dreams reside.
The face so pure and pale, your hair so blonde
and long. Blue eyes that stole my heart, a softness of
touch now gone.
In the killing fields of France, in the hell of the Somme
The picture of your pale soft face was all I had to hold on
The dream of holding your face and looking into your
beautiful eyes haunted my time in war, made me cry
in the night.
Returned a hero, returned a broken man, the boy you
loved so much before died in the fields of a foreign land
Now of an old age, nearly 91 I stand alone in the field
of ours under the burning sun.
Looking for the face I love, the fleeting sight of your
flowing hair in the breeze on the long, tall grass, your
giggle on my ear drum, your kiss of a thousand
exploding stars. Now knowing that as I fought for
peace your battle had begun.
You died of a heart attack, you were taken much too
young
I never stopped loving you.
I never stopped wanting you.
I never stopped seeing your beautiful soft face,
blue eyes in our field of long, tall grass
Where our love had begun under the young summer sun.
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