Fields of Green

They’ve been killing off all my heroes
Since i was 17
Some have gone on to disappear
Mysteriously never to be seen
Others get laid out lovingly
In a field of green

Like the old woman of the desert
Or the young surfer by the sea
The teachers of such pathways
That would only ever teach for free

Like the bleeding trailblazers
And the sleepy stipulators
The wicked wander-lusters
Or the clowning crop-dusters

When finally turning 40
The losses seemed to quicken
Like an extra season gets added
To every year just for the stricken

Losses by the numbers
Disasters by the score
When the art of acceptance
Won’t take part any more
Now i amble over 50
And the longest hours move so swiftly
I’m approached by those in need of reminder
Confusing me with path finder
I tell them with a crinkled smile
And a smoldering spark eyed glisten
To be quiet for just a while
And give your own hear t a good listen

They’ve been killing off all your heroes
Since you were 17