Dreamy Meadow

A man marches lonely across a dreamy meadow
were lifeless grass and calmness grow.
The emptyness holds a sorrow, a memory unknown
in a secret world that has hardened and grown.

The man marches on to the center of the field
once more to visit it’s heart and what it yields.
A stone lies dormant in a bed of summer flowers,
as the man mourns and grieves for endless hours.

A lonely grave lies silent surrounded by cold wind.
A hole in the old man’s heart that aches and will not mend.
“My love...my love...”, he says with a sigh,
Too hard to say good bye,
too difficult underneath the July sky.

He lies there in silence save a whisper,
a bleak attempt to possibly reach her.
“Could it be you walk on gold?”
She enjoys sweet oblivion as he grows old.

The man stands and says a prayer,
Ending: “Good Bye my Lynn, sweet and fair”
They’ll meet again, Heaven or Hell.
He marches away bidding the meadow farewell.