Jerome and I were walking hand and hand
Four feet marching
Two heads bobbing
Jerome insisted we walk through the field
A million stalks swaying
High above our heads
Hand and hand we ventured into the depths of the field
Four arms scraped
By husks, one by one
In the center of the field, all was quiet
Infinite sky open
Fixed sun glaring
I turned to look at my Jerome
Two lips parting
One mouth smiling
Two laughs breaking
The single silence of our surround
No one heard our laughs that day
Muffled by the endless sea
But held there safe in the perpetuity
Of the husks, in our hands, the sky, the sun-
The memories of two bobbing heads
Adventuring through a field
