Pastoral

Your life is gone
your youth is over
years of cheer
reduced to this
A crumbling mess
on a September morn
your blood flows by
like a meandering stream
bubbling
gurgling
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brook-like
baking in the midday sun
hard on the outside
soft on the inside
(That’s a nice contract)
I saw you there
Sioux City bound
In a cornfield
I saw you there
stinking