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By Randy1 Submitted by Randy1 Date: 2001 Nov 18 Comment on this Work [[2001.11.18.21.31.28430]] |
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Fields of gold, quiet and tame. Until comes the spark, then comes the flame. A big empty hole, out on the plain. Then comes the storm, it is now filled with rain. In the field of gold, a creature does crawl. Then comes the flame, now he is not there at all. In a big empty hole, a critter does dwell. He has drowned in the rain, now he is gone as well. The fires of love, the tears of pain. The fields that burned bright, have been quenched by the rain. |