Gray.
by: Liane Schmidt
Across your golden fields, I am kneeling
Across your tired brow, I sit, drink in the view
The beads of summertime combine.
The sky mists orange, and gray
And gray.
Come fishing in the morning
The pond is free, it twinkles and shimmers
In the light.
You can dip your toes in.
Another day for the carnival
Another year beside you.

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