Adrift amidst the digits of day,
No words are said, no mumblings of dread,
In strolls of gold down beautiful way
In looks upon the flowers of May,
A tulip, pink, anemones, red,
Adrift amidst the digits of day.
In walking, aimless, acting like fae,
On dirt and grass, we brazenly tread,
In strolls of gold down beautiful way.
While strutting twixt the bales of new hay,
On walks through fields—horizons have led,
Adrift amidst the digits of day.
Beneath the limbs of blooming sweet bay,
We rest in shade, from heat we have fled,
In strolls of gold down beautiful way
In hums of dusk, in night we soon play,
For vibrant dreams, leaves form a quick bed,
Adrift amidst the digits of day,
In strolls of gold down beautiful way