Whispers of the Corn
She closes her eyes,
and the fields return—
golden rows swaying,
songs of summer wind.
Her hands once touched
the silk of corn,
her laughter carried
with the flight of birds.
Now in the hush,
memory blooms—
The earth still holds her,
The past still breathes.
Whispers of the Corn
She closes her eyes,
and the fields return—
golden rows swaying,
songs of summer wind.
Her hands once touched
the silk of corn,
her laughter carried
with the flight of birds.
Now in the hush,
memory blooms—
The earth still holds her,
The past still breathes.
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