Haunting empty fieldsof overgrown weeds,
walking the rows where corn once grew
he moans and mourns
the lost season,
the hallow ground, now laying fallow ground.
He died and no one was there to bury him
and so he haunts and walks
as he always has
this earth only dear to him
very moving...emotive. great poem.
ReplyDeleteYou're too kind. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteIt feels a bit short to me, like I ought to be adding something to it.
Maybe eventually.