"No Heart To Follow"
She stood under the porcelain portico
Rope dangling, soaked in rainwater,
paints coursing in vain, the door partially closed.
The main garden, tainted; A grave warning to those exposed
to the rain. large clumps of stained carpets enclosed
by rustic rows of aged faucets eroded by hail and beating sun.
Roses, ranging from red to strange sludge of leafy lumps
Spring had come and gone, what's left were staunch aromas
“Fred!” said Norma, a red-headed corn-fed ‘brosia
sojourn of time; lovely, fine home-grown gaudy feature.
crosshatch burlap - a throwback to American gothic region
“What’s your problem??” His soft demeanor-
was off-putting. Large and lean from his job as logging leader
“thought you were leaving?” Such harbored feelings -
so poetically entrenched amidst the storm this evening
__________________
I remember the poplar trees
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