Delicate Fields

Delicate Fields

Highway signs pass us by,

Constantly asking myself why, 

Things had to be as they were,

Ending in such a blur.

I get myself out of the car,

Glad I let it take me this far, 

Walking through delicate fields, 

Hoping healing is what it yields. 

Center my heart to the ground, 

My feet guide me to what's found, 

A sense of freedom I didn't know, 

Healing this heart very slow.  

 

 

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