TATE MORGAN

TATE MORGAN

OLD MAN

" Where grass and bending flowers Grew once like the weeds The field empty and barren For lack of sowing seeds "

The old gray man alone now

attends to his dusty fields

Watering the emptiness

where the land no longer yields

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He wove his web of fashions

from the tears his pains had sprung

Where once he sang of starlight

back when both their hearts were young

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Then came the winds a-calling

turned to run a-hoping sure

To reach where she was lying

sharing pains they'd both endure

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The gales did blow around him

precious memories, he'd miss

Drops would fall upon his lips

those that hers would never kiss

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Where grass and bending flowers

grew together like the weeds

Lie meadows all but barren

for the lack of sowing seeds

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The blushing, blowing Poppies

that once grew all around near

Fill the fields with memories

of the love he once lost here

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Each time he treads on his land

as the wind blows 'cross the field

Not belonging, feels a longing

for the mercy God may wield

Tate Morgan