Monday, August 18, 2014

I walk across the field in gloves

I walk across the field in gloves
that shield my diseased hands from the summer sun
I look at the butterfly that roves
and lands on a primrose, small and wan.
 
I walk across the field in gloves
The train going by blocks out the sound of the birds
I stop, watch the train as it moves
and walk on again, listening for those songs without words.
 
I walk across the field in gloves
faster now, as I think of my friend
and her children, all full of love
for me, waiting at my journey's end.
 
I walk across the field in gloves
but slower, with a smile I don't try to hide
thinking of the man who loves me
and will wait for me this evening by the fireside.