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In a flowing field of green, green grass
I sit alone in silence.
My thoughts drift to my lass
In sweet, joyful remembrance

All that passes before my eyes
Reminds me of her beauty;
Gentle, graceful butterflies
And apple trees all fruity.

The monarch, as it flutters by,
Is so fragile to my sight.
She is that butterfly,
Delicate in the waning light.

I watch a deer go bounding through
My tranquil field, so quiet.
She is that young doe, too,
As graceful as a sonnet.

The big red apples on the tree
Are to me a happy treat.
She is an apple to me;
Shining bright and oh so sweet.

A lone white flower grows so lovely,
Made by the Lord Almighty.
Suzanne is a soft lily
Of pure and natural beauty.

Bird's song carried in the air
Falls on my ear like her voice.
The fragrance of her golden hair
Moves my soul to rejoice.

We are now quite far away,
One day to be united.
Since I can't be with her today,
My field shall keep me delighted.

5 April 1988
David C Lawrence

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