Flowered fields

The face that was familiar is no more
Yet in my dreams ,we  amble through bright  fields
Where cornflowers and blue linseed  softly grow
The face that was familiar is no more
The emptiness  and loss,  confused, real
The face that was familiar is no more
Yet in my dreams ,we wander through   flowered fields

The hand that once held mine I still  do feel
Warm with tapered fingers and hard nails
That death was near you did not then reveal
The hand that once held mine I still can feel
The memory impressed like iron or steel
You were growing colder,oh,so pale.
The hand that once held mine I  think I feel
Warm with tapered fingers and hard nails