Footsteps Bathe In A Field Of Flowers And Light Poem by Mark Heathcote

Footsteps bathe in a field of flowers and light
Like good bedfellows once again.
Fiddle players play, and drummers drum.
It's a place of lightning when the rains come
But it's a paradise we were flung to when we were young.
Where even cattle leap the gates
And worship the hills
I hope Jenny Wren never loses her flight.
In the diamond night when morning soon to come.
Oh, paradise, we were flung when we were young.
Oh, from the prizefighting ring, we must run all the time.
To find a friend that doesn't disown us
Between the rounds, the sawdust, blood, and spit.
Where we can be good bedfellows once again
Running through the stars breathless.
Tiptoeing through and on a prairie-like spring-falling snow.
Like good bedfellows once again.