Love Goes To Love

~After Working Man’s Dead

With dirty looks,
wheels caked by guts
of hand-felled fields,
I looked on
as you looked away,
goodbye in your eyes,
but your body screamed
don’t let go.

Wagon rolled;
sun-baked foreheads,
brown loaves,
an uncertain crop,
brittle and frail.
On and off rains
turned us mushy
and stale.

Happiness is a hard time;
it’s boring loving you.
Nothing looks wrong
but tomorrow’s untrue.

© 2022 | K.Hartless

11 Comments

  1. There is certainly nothing true about tomorrow, and love is definitely hard. I love the feelings this write evoked within me. A mixture of angst, frustration, and, well, clarity. Lovely poem, K. 💜

    Liked by 2 people

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