your wounds never shallowed
the furrows made way for flowers

we ride on bikes through the field
blending the lines and boundaries

mysteriously they would grow
to be scattered and no longer staid

tell me does it become gloomy
all of the darkening of the sun?

the rain in constant worry of love
gets deflected yet some seeps through

call the ceiling off, to stop it's shading
uncover the holes and lay inside them