Gord

2017-03-03 12:00 am

Partridges fly,
Above the land they admire,
Moon rocks to the scientist,
Fertility given to a goddess,
Pointless admiration.
So begins desire,
The bird flies higher,
Further from the ground,
Wherefore no dreams to mire.
Society jobs to a miser.
My job is too dry,
Hands cracking, without water.
Voice loud enough to deny it.