you tell me

Many years have passed
since those summer days
among the fields of barley
See the children run
as the sun goes down
among the fields of gold
~Sting~

The house is now quiet,
and I’m wide awake.

The music plays on,
trying deeply to free
to release the frozen words.

Maybe there’s nothing to say on this night?

The music plays on
and the tea cools beside me

I wait. And wait. I listen and stare.

I refuse to leave without an answer.

If I could find Sting
in the barley fields of gold
how much you wanna bet

I’d say, “Sting,
I don’t believe you”

It’s a beautiful line
an incredible line–
yet maybe I missed it

What in all the earth
does the jealous sky
have to be jealous about?

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