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Prairie Wheatgrass and Nostalgia: A Poem of Lost Love and Memories

I was obsessed. No – a feeling of remorse and nostalgia
Stretches of gold over algae.
Prairie turf interwoven to coast
Bezeled beach. Denizen dosage.
Felt closer to home Juniper fire,
I never understood why I’d cry when alone Something about…

Fingertip tingle.
Hands nestled over a looming horizon
Open field just for me, dusk’s pyre was just another surprise
Take you to tango to feel the revolver in your dress
Like a fire in duress, in denial of what’s left
Crested wheatgrass.
Nibble on the straw and just think
How irrevocably stunning, in French, how do you say pour me a drink?

Verse-moi un verre.
Sunsets fill in oblivion, storm in a teacup
Now pour me a lion. I want to hear a roar when the steam runs.
Now stare into silence. Tick-tock.
Just give me a second
Moment of quiet. Russian roulette, soldiers are dying
We all saw it coming, how do they say it was an issue of days?
Of course; a matter of time, discontinue answers left unobtained
Delicate hardship, melancholy quenches the hollow
Vanguard in the shadow, he only says hello in the shade
Yearning acceptance – chicken soup in the thermos
Chia seed tai chi. Only read a book when it rains
What is your purpose – he who barely looks in the eye
Hello, miss I’m sorry to interrupt you but I’m
Pupil dilation, iris diameter entropy wavelet
Psychosomatic belly dive into the stasis
Denim delight, dandelion prairie design
Chewing on straw, crinkling grime grimacing smile
I return to this place and try to mimic a scene
No return on ideas, we’re stuck living a dream

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