Grass Gardens

About the split in life, where nothing has that sacred meaning anymore.

Through the grass gardens
Filled with stone lions
And a child’s summer
My memories stay
Pre-occupied
And drift apart.

They dissipate-
But I hoped you
Would hold on to the dew drops
That are now scientific particles
We can examine thoroughly
In our aging.

From what we can remember
We can tape together
Something similar
To make a chart or mural of what it was.

And even now as I’m in that middle ground
I feel the groaning and creaking
Of time
And the ‘wondering why’
Of all this.

Ice, Ice everywhere
Madness sets in to deadlines
And obligations
To people I do not know.
When summer sets in
I’ll quit my job
I’ll drive back up
To fields and hills
And sleep there alone.