Echoes in Amber Fields
in the grass, a plain of fields, long afield, nothing else growing near.
others seen spiriting by the wind, taking in the world, and the sun.
across in paths, an echo of voices, folded over the breeze, like the color of the seas.
can wind pick up the sound of fading love, new spirited woven spans, golden rays taken shortly.
the passing figures drift upon the fields of amber, lost in ways unending, forsook by bouncing echoes, whispers unheard.
days form into years, end in lives, until all decays away into dust, and wind blows us all away.
1/11/22 – Andy McRae
RadioactivePoetry 