Sunday 22 April 2012

The Old Man (April 2012)

A face, one bare of traffic
was now a transport network
tear drops turned to streams
becoming a thickening river
cutting deepened furrows
cross-lined a care worn place

Where time ago a field
of golden corn
had long been harvest aged
to patched, dry desert
edged with snow
All that twinkled is now fled
the windows give reflection
to naught
but shadowed memories of time