I’d imagined her in the fields of
Tea; one, “she,” with hair born ink,
Perfectly-lined pearls,
A soon to be smile,
Wells for eyes, lost,
So very starved to be saved
And a'tic-tac-toe
Scarred the earth upon back,
So mimicked the sun.
So clucked the tribulation.
We, and after, “we,”
Thrust. We trust
And two necks rocked backward
Under an unrelenting moon,
Could become, “we,”
With an already, “she,” and now the
“He,” a'wander before stars -
A wish and the only she’d wanted,
By name of, “touch;”
So one, the sun scorched rice,
And second, red stained the field,
And so on, the son missed home,
And once more, one son stood ground
And another sun held his hand,
So built, this newer home
Come allowed and growing old;
Together.