The End
2001-06-19 00:14:05 (UTC)

riding thru elysian fields

Riding thru the Elysian Fields

The rumble and roar
of chrome and steel
vibrate through me
as I let out the clutch.

Rolling meadows spotted with clover,
parted by fields of corn and alfalfa.
Skies are made of the finest turquoise.
A mountain range of clouds
peek over distant treetops.
You can see forever
while the sun scorches flesh.

Hawks soar and ducks dive,
and goslings cross the road.
Pools of green,
sparkle like emeralds.
Freshly mown yards and
unknown flowers scent the air
between cow pastures and
long dead skunks.

I follow the sun, hoping
This day will never end.

copyright 2001linke