Empty Feilds

I walk where golden harvests swayed, Now only dust and shadows stay. The wind still hums a hollow tune, A dirge beneath the frozen moon. Once laughter danced among these rows, Soft footprints kissed the earth below. But time has stripped the world so bare, And left me speaking to the air. The echoes call, but none remain, Just whispered names and drifting pain. The fields stretch on, so vast, so wide, Yet nothing grows where love has died. I reach for ghosts, for hands once warm, For voices lost within the storm. But death has tilled this land too deep, And all that’s left is dust—and me.