feeling contempt to
Stew and wane
now it’s all becoming lame
will it ever be the same?
Up and come rejecting fame
Connecting a face to a greasy name
Ego to tame
Sometimes wish I never came


Community garden
dug up for the year
Dirt is turned over
Winter is near
windmill is blowing
Empty sticks here
the dirt is sifted
start new next year