Lowlands that stay flat

Lowlands that stay flat and go nowhere Fields of yellow grain that flood with shallow, sparkling waters Feelings that linger, barely touching Dreams, like transparent images Inconceivable echos surround And I just cannot Seem to exist in your world

My man, meadows

The sea side is far from here. The meadows sway in their own faint little tunes. This grain matches my mustard color sweater. I like the color of the sun; the way the light reflects across the sky in beams and touches my sweater. If you were to look closely into my eyes, you’d see