Once Called Paradise

Gravel road winds up to the gate logs from a bygone era, sturdy electrified now, to keep out ~ or perhaps to keep in ~ The cowshed, chicken coop scraggly gardens and grapevines all still there, the ground still bare desert sand, flies around but no one dies of thirst... Paint's peeling, metal's rusting fragrance carried on the air Paradise once for this sixty-year-old-lad walking the fields, remembering dad