My Past, My Present, My Future. Poem by josie iorianni

Coming home from my country past on the flat landed road.

From all the thirsted trees and the red dirt farms, the rustic fences holding back the part dead, or part alive sheep.

Looking out the window, wishing the past could be the future.
A dried up dam, what is now supposed to hydrate the dehydrated cattle.

Blue sky, no clouds in sight like a still picture.

Birds that fly as free as the leaves blow in the wind, a desired country road, makes you feel you are the only one, they only one to make your fate, the only one to make you feel free.

No mountains to see, only flat land and paddocks that reach for miles and miles.

The red dirt, the old gum trees, the rocky dirt roads.

The end to my past, or the start to my future