'Twas my decision to depart,
Delude myself I can't.
No flagrant town or cedar horse,
Scourged at heels to hasten.
No burnished son of Amon-Ra,
Embossed his seal upon my cheek.
Chased through channels I was not,
Beneath the Sea I went.
Prospect, guiling motivation,
Subtle was thy goading stick.
Naive were my intentions,
Quixotic thoughts of mastery.
If will could spur this planet back,
Would I my own extend?
The answer is uncertain,
for time we cannot bend.
A lover's mouth, firmly closed,
'Tis like the verdant grass I miss,
Or long dead friend, I'll never hug,
Amnesic our companionship.
Mortal lustre loses shine,
Flesh depleted by and by.
Revoked is our replenishment,
But landscape shall endure.
Though many shades of green exist,
Only one I yearn to view.
Others are the same as mist,
Compared to thee my homely hue.
Copyright © Max Gatrell | Year Posted 2009