the wind hits my face from the east,
where fields of gold sway to its breeze,
night curls cover your mischievous smile,
like clouds of dreams over an emerald isle,
we stand in love over one of the hills,
the rolling grounds finally still,
you call my name softly and calm,
placid waters falling from God's palm.
it still amazes me,
how strong our light runs deep,
no matter what the wiseman tells,
its funny how even God's forget.
we walked over the dust of thrones,
witnessed every ruin and garden of old,
me the cracked stones where nothing grows,
you the crystal waters which overflows.
©rav-rowen
R