A wide field, endless, unbound
A warm sun shaking the rust from aging bones
A loping play from days gone past, but not forgotten
Joyous noise with no one to correct
Grey and white replaced once more with slick black
Smells and friends long past, but still remembered
I call to them, and here, once more, they can answer
The memory is strong, able to keep at bay the knowledge
That morning will come, the rust will return
The play will be replaced with toil
Old bones will sing their songs
But tonight, in the field, I can run
Tag