Fields of Gold
You’ll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley…
I remember that walk with my friend. We wandered aimlessly, talked aimlessly, through that field.
We had no real destination, but it was very satisfying.
We perched on a hill, gazing out at the expansive field.
“How long d’y’think it goes on?” I asked, sweeping my hand across the horizon.
My companion shrugged. “As far as our friendship, I’d say.”
“I guess that’s far?”
“Yup. Near infinate, I’d think.”
I breeze ruffled my hair. “I’m glad I said hi that day,” I mused.
“Y’know,” came the response, “I am too.”
...You’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we walk in the fields of gold.