These winds that blow
are the breaths that you breathe.
This field that we lay in
of tall flourished wheat
is your flowing golden hair.
Those cute little birds
that dance across the blue sky
are the freckles on your skin.
That big bright Sun
that makes everybody's day
is the beautiful smile on your face.
The warmth of the soil
that emanates off this land
is the comfort of your touch.
These little things
are all that remain of you.
This is the land that we became.
And this is the land
that holds your grave.
I come here from time to time,
to remember these things
that once were mine.