Your buffalo still wanders in gentle play,
I hear your laugh from that old day.
You said you cared in a “funny way,”
but now you’ve gone, so far away.
The fields remember, the herd does too,
their slow steps echo my thoughts of you.
They graze on grass, I graze on dreams,
missing the warmth of what once seemed.
Another city may hold you near,
while silence grazes heavy here.
Even buffalo know, when skies turn dry,
the heart stays waiting, though time drifts by