I didn't care about it; it was plain and boring. A background for the sea of grass Or a sore thumb sticking out of it. I don't know if this would be a short trip. As I see you frequently, moments changed. Affection drifts past me softly, Caressing my guarded heart, Carrying me along with the wind. I didn't resist it; I went with it. I swayed with every wind, I stood with every storm. Realizing that I might settle When the field is safe and free. Should I be a patch of asters near you Or a bush of yellow bells? Will I move forward when you don't want those flowers Or circle you with it when you want them?