a field of waving rye
under autumn's dawn sky
laying down to dream
folding thoughts to stream
others can't find me there
yet I'm seeing your stare
golden niche hid deep in my mind
hazy field where two catchers find
a rest to lay their hearts akindle
inside spirit that has no dwindle
but my boldness ends at your eyes
left with lonely rebelgirl cries
they've never put a song in my heart-hand
wherein lives the passionate demand
for me to be waves of caressing rye
underneath your pleasureful autumn sky
but whatever comes with cold winter's bend
for your smile only, everything I'll fend
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