Missing Memories Poem by Quame Boatmann

The memories of my early days
Become as green leaves
Of the dew morning
Whenever I behold
The women of the crescent moon and star
In this new world

In gowns of manifold styles
With their bareness locked in their robes
I feel the breeze of our uncivilized days
And smell its perfumed air

Where a maiden is a maiden
And nature was natural
Woman was not man and man not woman
And though there was no sun
We lived in light

But a catastrophe hits our land
And darkness plagues our world
The magnificent beams of the sun
Cannot overshadow this darkness
And we live in total darkness

Even as we profess of civilization
Where modern maidens sell their pearls
To the crowed of men
For no money but attraction
They have no shame!

And who is to put them right?
For even the old women are not a left out
Shameless!
A rot in the winds stales the air
So is this civilization that we are so proud of?