write poem on a crop standing in a field
Answers
Explanation:
those eyelids of mine
too heavy with hardened
speckles of
light
they busy themselves at nighttime
locking up summer night skies and
the occasional looks at your
eyes.
dreams had never failed me
as orchestras of dead
leaves filled the back of my head
with some comfort.
I was destined to
pierce the bewitching hour,
letting dreams find
long-term company
inside my head,
and the wheat ears scattered
themselves as hands of the
wind lead some crazy
dance.
light burns the inside
of my eyes,
letting rays reach through
the maze that lead
nowhere
as the sounds soothe
the racing thoughts
that run like harvesters
of themselves beyond a thick
twirl of some golden haze.
and eyelids are never
too old for their job
neither are thoughts
nor dreams.
they live off me, and I am opening
my arms to the horizon that won’t
stop tickling my finger-toes
amid the puff of dust below