Running through the fields of York
Fast as I can go.
I trip. I fall. Beneath a log
Dang that brush lay low.
Get back up, dust off the dirt
It’s just a bit of blood.
Back to the car, from whence I came
First-aid beneath the hood.
I fumble with the plastic wrapper
My brow is clad with sweat.
I finally rip the package open
Infected? Yeah. I bet.
Neosporin must come first
Cleanse the wound from the inside out.
Now lay that band-aid on thick
Healing – that’s what it’s about.
Behind the wheel of my dodge again
I’m ready to head on home.
But wait, what’s this? A girl out there?
Good lord, I’m not alone!
Throw the door wide, stumble from the car,
I’m sprinting fast as I can go.
I trip. I fall. NOW I see that log.
The brush still lying low.
Gotta get up, keep moving forward
She was there a minute ago.
But now she fades, she’s gone with the wind.
I wonder…was she friend or foe?
I get up to to survey the area where she was,
I stumble a bit, but regain my footing.
As I get closer I realize it was a mirage
Enough of your horn-tooting!
Silly man, no pretty woman will gaze at you,
They don’t care about your woe.
You’re wrong, my man,
And you should have seen her face.
I know she cares. I watched her heart pace.
And this is how I know her to be friend. Not foe.