Love for the wind blown fields of mahogany and golden wheat,
For the back breaking, rock-ridden earth.
Love for the simplicity of a porch swing,
For sunrise playing over the rooftops.
Love for the rolling hills of mystery that is home,
The bittersweet songs of the mockingbirds,
Love for sweat dripping from a furrowed brow,
For leaving early and coming late.
For the till, the tractor, the soil, and the beast.
Love for the creaky gate and the rusted locks,
The labor of the day and the slumber of the night.
Love for the rough times and the life of a farmer,
For the life of a husband, father, and friend.
They said this love would kill you,
But it was your heart that killed you in the end.
~RIP
