The Empty Field


Across the empty field,
sitting alone on the bench,
I see the figure of a young girl.
As she watches the orange
of the leaves fall,
to be covered in snow,
and reawakened by May skies,
even time itself cannot
confine her to this realm.
The fine, swaying grass
and the warmth of the sun
cannot call her back.
Despite her solitude,
she is content, living in her dreams.
As I approach her, however,
she fades to a shadow
burnt out by the sun.
Like tricks played on
these unseeing eyes,
she has vanished before
I can save her, as I
am left alone in the empty field.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem