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Death of a Distant Admirer


I
will follow them home
Home from the City
Past the Mountains
The rivers and valleys
Past the praries
The wheat fields
The hay fields
And orchards
Blossomed meadows
Cows bees flowers
Past the gardens
The isolated homes
Red barns
To a quiet corner
A shady place
I am always
More comfortable
With the things I love
Keeping them at a distance
True love must prove itself worthy
I have always believed this is so
But I was only a poor man

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