In Fields Of Flowers Poem by Rory Hudson

Let us go, my darling, to fresh fields of flowers,
when the sun is dying fiery in the west
and a warm wind whispers words among the grass
of memories from days forever lost.

And let us lie together, silent in nameless vales,
on beds of grass that fade in evening light,
and dream inchoate dreams that lovers have
when love’s green shoots first break into the world.

Years ago we came here, I recall,
and lay and dreamed of what was not;
we spoke words all too vague to touch the world
which stretched before us in vast empty plains.

Across those plains we wandered ever since
and, as ships upon the ocean landfall seek,
we sought a place to be a home for love,
a shelter from this wide and wearying world.

Now both of us are tired, and turn away
from far horizons receding from our gaze
mirage-like, enticing only fools
who have not learned the lessons of their lives.

So turn your soft cheek to me one last time
and I shall see reflected in your eye
the rosy hue of nimbus clouds within
a sky that arches sadly over lonely hills.

In dreams we shall see flowers forever fresh,
the sun that never sets, and words that are
forever true within our souls, and we shall sleep
blanketted by star-studded night for evermore.