green rivers were beautiful once,
life vibrating with every wet drop.

showed my daughter the green rivers now,
and they are the color of slow-death.

seems a traipse through liquid daffodils,
and the young girl is just seeing green.

should i break her dream cloud?
knowing once broken by reality
dreams become as touchable as a predawn mist
and as difficult to grasp and hold.

as we eat our own mother to her slow death
i don't want to be the harbinger-robin.

we clear, dig, smelt, form, erect
at the expense of the unborn.

yet, can i let her walk in ignorance
and watch to see if she joins the ranks of gen-x
thereby sullying her Little Prince view of the world?

08/04/2005

Posted on 08/04/2005
Copyright © 2025 Charlie Morgan