Sunday, November 25, 2007

. . . .when we walk in fields of gold. . . .

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You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Among the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold

So she took her love for to gaze awhile
Among the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
And you can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We will walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We will walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
As you lie in fields of gold

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Among the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold

~~ Eva Cassidy



3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I shudder to think
What it would mean
If the president wore pink
Or if a prostitute was queen
What would happen then
How would the world change
If thick became thin
And the world was rearranged
If the rains brought down the moon
And daylight was feared
And the sun rose too soon
And then just disappeared
If dogs became kings
And the Pope chewed gum
And hobos had wings
And God was a bum
If houses became trees
And flowers turned to stone
And there were no families
And people lived alone
If buildings started laughing
And windows cried
And feet started clapping
And out came inside
If mountains fell in slivers
And the sky began to bleed
And blood filled up the rivers
And prisoners were freed
If the stars fell apart
And the ocean dried up
And the world was one big heart
And decided to stop
If children grew up happier
And they could run with the wolves
And they never felt trapped
Or hungry or unloved
If cats walked on water
And birds had bank accounts
And we loved one another
In equal amounts

Lucinda Williams - "What If"
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=16511748 (about 3rd down)

Anonymous said...

I thought about you on Thanksgiving - and felt a missing . . . . . until it occured to me that thinking about you is part of repairing that temporal and spatial disconnect.

puddle said...

Thank you both. Best of friends, indeed.