Dry Golden

This, I think, is the oldest poem I still have of mine. I lost all poems I wrote before this. I think it was roughly 2008 but it could have been 2011 for all I know. I had a terrible habit of throwing away all my work before a certain date when I started to hold on to it.

Far away I remember the fields,
Dry golden,
Days when the corn was taller than us,
And we trampled the crop to make rooms,
Sometimes naked,
Ah such is life.

And later the fields were gone,
Houses and rooms,
Cars and roads,
And we were not innocent,
The golden dry rooms,
And the sunshine.

And later the desire has gone,
Once we wanted so much.

Posted in Poems.

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