In your voice, I can hear the crickets chirping their song the lonesome sound of the coyote’s call the water trickling downstream And the popping of fish in the creek
In your eyes, I can see the fields of green, blowing in the breeze the wildflowers, and the buzzing bees the rows of gold, standing tall the mud puddles, left by all the rainfall the bales of hay, bound with twine And the path your tractor left in straight lines
In your arms, I can feel the blades of grass, brushing my skin the touch of your lips, grazing below my chin the hum of your truck, vibrating my bones And the love we share, consuming me from head to toe
All of these things make up our place A place where you carved our names into a tree A place where you told me you loved me And a place where you got down on one knee
Our place
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