When we were mourning
The loss of our friend,
The pain didn't seem so bad
Because you and I went back
To work in the sheepfold.
But when you took that job
In the vineyard last week,
Pruning young vines,
I found myself in the field
Without your ears to listen,
Without your eyes to see
The pain my heart was beating.
Now here I am,
The loss of two friends
Pressing down on me.
Sure, I can still meet you to
Unlatch our metal lunch boxes,
Talking with our mouths half full,
Sandwiches our wives made.
But on most days I am alone.
Here in the grazing-grass
There is no one
To hear my thoughts
But God
And the wind.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
When we were mourning
The loss of our friend,
The pain didn't seem so bad
Because you and I went back
To work in the sheepfold.
But when you took that job
In the vineyard last week,
Pruning young vines,
I found myself in the field
Without your ears to listen,
Without your eyes to see
The pain my heart was beating.
Now here I am,
The loss of two friends
Pressing down on me.
Sure, I can still meet you to
Unlatch our metal lunch boxes,
Talking with our mouths half full,
Sandwiches our wives made.
But on most days I am alone.
Here in the grazing-grass
There is no one
To hear my thoughts
But God
And the wind.
