some day i’ll write a poem
about rain with no sound
ugly flowers everywhere
the sky above is ground

grass holds stiff in the wind
ocean waves at a stop
children born without names
old friends cannot laugh

river streams ceasing flow
country homes with no heart
farms that grow thorny corn
barren trees give no fruit

until i come to write
this poem the world as is
will surely have to do
no song of life now sings this

i know just the opposite
the realm in which i work
no dotted i’s, or crossed t’s
causes us to take such fork

extra years come my way
and i am at my craft
all this change comes about
consider this a draft

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