Summer wind bends the grain. Old spirits drift from forgotten years. I keep my eyes on you. Your silence carries the scent of forbidden bloom. My knees grow weak. They smile— small, cruel smiles, floating with the breeze, never touching earth. A wandering wind lifts your hair from your eyes. The world forgets to breathe. I fall without a sound. The sky turns slow, the field turns white. Somewhere there was a line I should not have crossed. I cannot find it now. The spirits fade, still laughing softly. Only the wind remembers their names. If I was wrong, the season keeps it. If I was right, it no longer matters. Summer wind... the grain still sways. I cannot return. I only watch you.
