Mark Bratlie


Abandoned


They drove off laughing
Now through moist prisms
And distorted forms
He seeks familiar signs

The once green softness
With cool water beckoning
Is now hard and dry
A bleak and barren place

The trees are some strange species
The grass does not welcome him
Even the rocks are not made
For him to walk on

The warm vacation sun
Seems to quicken its descent
Abandoning him
To the dusk and shadows

The bond that holds warmth
Against the coming night
Has just driven off
In a white Plymouth wagon

Submitted: Thursday, December 20, 2012
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