When I don't see you, here or in the places we've been in prairie meadows or in these trailing hills I am lonesome, listening to how the ocean spills blue waves play a sorrowful song I get lost in thought, ruminate long on our walks my feet here in these tiny flowers, the ones that we picked I think of all the gardens, yesterday, today and tomorrow my eyes fly far off with birds, disappearing into some heavenly place, where you are.