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.