Wheat and Tractor Tracks

Broken dollars
on freight trains.
Saw dust
and stale bread.

We were friends once,
you and I.
Hopping fences
in our sagging jeans
and worn in leather.

Your face haunts nothing now,
it’s just sad, is all.

To think of you,
in a field of wheat
and tractor tracks,
holding her cold
and colorless hand
in yours.

She wouldn’t want this for you.

Sunlight penetrates
the cold
if you let it,
she’d say.

Chains aren’t your only keeper.
‘Tis the mind,
broken and weak,
overtaken by perverse tendrils
of wicked thought
that holds you captive.

Break what binds you.

Let sunlight in.


One response

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s