Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 32.0: August 6th, 2007

Silver Fields
by Belinda Roddie

Feel the wind
It touches your skin
Brown as the soil
From which fields of time
Are not gold, but silver
In their age
It’s enough to make travelers bewildered

The fields are my home
Each stalk is an arm
From which grows the wheat
Their figures caress
My face and my chest
As I walk in the morning dew
That forms in my eyes as tears
Not ones of sorrow
But drops of a new harvest tomorrow

The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since August 6th, 2007.

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