The Love Field

I walk slowly, my feet crunching on the brown dead leaves,

I turn the corner and enter into a place of love and joy.

The love field.

The dandelion is still in its skin, solemn and quiet, sad and lonely,

The wind is getting stronger and is blowing her around like she's just a flower.

I back up and look at her standing alone in the grass of the field.

Her green stem pops out like a heart with no love.

She’s riding the wind, she wishes to be a bird, to have friends and never be alone again.

She wishes for a friend, but she’s different, there's no one around.

Just wisps of grass that shield the ground from the sun like an umbrella at the beach.

The wisps of grass don’t need any friends because they have each other.

She's talking to herself like her shadow could be a friend.

Her shadow is just blackness lying on the ground like the burnt coals from a fire.

A stub has sprouted from the ground, a little green stub, nothing cool, nothing fun.

But, is it, could it be a friend?

Her heart fills with joy like a child who has got a new toy.

As time passes, the nub grows strongly and proudly into the wish she always dreamed of.

A friend who could heal her want of love.

Their hearts pound as they start to talk in their flower kind of way.

A nice soft kind of whisper.