"Rosie Among the Fields"
On a warm September morning
I was sipping grenadine
And I was punching holes in stockings
When she crossed herself and squealed
It was when the clocks reverted to a
Past when colors ceased to climb
Into cupboards and Aunt Sara's trunk
Where our superstitions are sealed
And it was when I was exploring
Over hills of spinning wheels
On a warm September morning
I found Rosie among the fields
I was climbing over driftwood
I was dodging orange peels and I was
Obeying flashing signs that read,
"Simply follow the trail of leeks"
And there is no past or future
And the rivers disappear
When I finally felt abandoned
I heard Rosie's voice in my ear
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