Wilting

In the green fields
where the mowers have gone
the grass lies wilted.
The flowers die
in the hot sun.

I think of them
when you say
you want to go away;
crawl into bed
and never wake.

I find your smile
and blue eyes
hide too much;
tears and fears
and pain,
behind a facade.

Once the grass grew
long and lush
and the flowers
perfumed the air
in springtime.

Once your words
made my mornings
and gave me reason
to awaken
to another day.

Now your sunshine
has turned to clouds.
Rain as tears roll
down your sad face
and I know not why.

I pray for your smile
to return
to your face,
your heart, your soul,
and to me.

In the green fields
where the mowers have gone
my love lies wilted.
You are a flower
dying in the hot sun.