A little outside to the town I reside
are fields of grass as wide as the horizon.
There, I often go for a ride
whenever I need to speak alone in person.
Those fields, they listen to my words
and answer back with winds and directions.
Somehow it is there that I hear
voices from my many reflections.
The conversations are never ending
and I find it difficult to walk away.
Because there is no one pretending,
my love for those fields never fades away.
What starts with a particular doubt,
ends with solving even the unrelated ones.
Something there brings in a change about
the ways I breathe through my lungs.
With every departure, we promise to meet again
to keep stories reverberating across the plains.
It is like we both end up with some comfort and pain
as we both face our Suns and drench in the rains.