The Field

The field is empty now, with people leaving
Dried grass, patches of dirt where it happened

We stand there in disbelief, it can't be over
Tears begin to brim our eyes, blinding us

Do you remember what it felt like to know
To know you didn't give your all, and now all is gone

Is it fair? No, it is never fair. How could it be?
We needed more of heart, of soul, devotion

You never realize how much you miss it, until its gone
Only then does the guilt hit you, you did not endeavor

We stay there, talking of great things
All of those things could only happen here, like magic

You begin to love it; the smell, the sweat, the effort, the essence
You cherish those things, for some will never have them again

But then maybe it is fair. because through trial comes triumph
And triumph is something to strive for, to bring  you back

To the fidelity of the Field

-CJB