Monday, March 29, 2010

We Field Plastic Soldiers and Candy Colored Illusions

They buried you right there,
those bullets,
those men,
Where were you,
when we were so young? When we
and they called out to you,

to shadows cloaked in rain and truth,
hands cold, wanting

A dream,
warm and trickles down my face
with obscured visions,
and fairy tales

without impulse,
We laid there, he and she
the grass damp
and comforting, whispering
a festive good bye to youth,
and you watching, unassuming,
the sky passive,
magic unwritten, hinges on
a word all encompassing,

didactic imaginings,
in unfair fantasies
the armies learn to march unheeded,
revered by those in tall dewy grass
dreaming as youth drifts by,
silent, like the lumbered gait of broken horses.

No comments:

Post a Comment