My Pretty Patch of Green
Full of rocks, the ground around-
with little fertile soil-
and only random well-worn paths
carved out of years of toil...
with fields around choked up with weeds
and crops, starvation lean...
this you were to me, my love-
my pretty patch of green.
And all was oh so verdant
on my pretty patch of green.
A stream nearby hummed all day long,
sibilant, serene.
Birds were singing, flowers bloomed,
as long as you were there.
And oh, my pretty patch of green
was all so very fair.
But now no rain, since you've been gone,
upon the earth's parched crust-
and all around the dried-up scrags
are filmed with gritty dust.
And when the whipping, dust-filled winds
sweep merciless and mean,
my love, I think of you and miss
my pretty patch of green.© 2005, Bette Wolf Duncan
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
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