but the rains
that sprayed verdant beads
in a past season
have left marks
dried furrows gouged
in once green fields – now arid
where hot winds
blow sour breaths
and sear the scars
-- unhealed unfilled --
and eyes that once
saw the moon even through
the glare of neon lights
are now blinded -- stranded
like a child’s toys
discarded
lost in the parched dust
of unforgiving pasts
No comments:
Post a Comment