Tears Across My Page

Listening to hear my baby's footsteps
another morning, wind whistles the blues
chickens scratching along the dirt road
on the run, rooster lifts his tail once more

Early morning sun, shining grey upon me
mind swirling, inside a spring dust devil
carried along the old barbed wire fence
which once contained an acre of dreams

Rotted acorns under the live oak scattered
roots reaching up from the grave below
corpses whose hands grasping to breath
out past shadows cast of branches high

Apocalyptic landscape in a panorama 
sorrow and death beckoning to me silently
and my pen as always, it just weeps softly 
absently, dripping tears across the page