green field

This is at the end of that green field.
Where we said goodbye for the umpteenth time.
Where we jazzed up our tears and snow began pouring.
Then sun.
Then nothing.

We forgot the sun, my love, that's what I keep saying.
No, you forgot me and the moon was your mistress, you keep telling.

Then sun,
Then oblivion,
Then a song comes through and trees goes on crying like they was

like they were

what was that, you say
are you correcting the world for its grammar?
you say

and I cry,
because it is no longer green, this field where we used to dream,

you say,
you cry because you can't trust the future.

I say to you that the future cannot embrace anyone, so yes, I distrust it;
while the past reviled may impregnate wonders into a child's mind,
the future is only a promise

you say,
and I cry,
and I try to be manly
for the umpteenth time.

I say that the trees are the ones who cry, that we are just saying that final goodbye,

and you say to me that I should be happy because it was no longer.
it was no longer.

anything the sort you dreamed. you were a ghost in your own memory, you whisper.
yes, I was a ghost in my own whisper, a valkyrie you turned into a forlorn love because
and because
and because
you say,
we are no more.

and the field turns blue, we are no longer. we are not make lovers. we are not make believe lovers. we are not jazz anymore notes anymore gods and goddesses, we are just puppets singing in a blue field at the end of night.

should you be happy? you are happy.
you say,
you are happy because you are light now. you are light and you smile

I lay there, wide awake, while you leave, smiling.

so don't go at me with hopes high and highrise smiles.
let me cry with my trees, baby. let me cry with my sadness and just delight her in my companionship, we do not know our bodies anymore, we are two highways parallel, never cross each other never again, never never, yet I stroll to you in afternoons forgotten.

just maybe the field is green in a dream and I may press reset in my button of Fate.
you say,
don't cry, honey.
don't cry as I'm here and I'm your island, I'm your desert storm, I let you stir me.

But it's just a dream, and the field is blue at the end of sunrise.