Not Sure Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

Not Sure



The year is young, my life springs new
a chance to start again
blot out those fields of green and blue
the toil of farming men

No longer are my feet awash
with dirt among the rows
of rich, green okra, corn or squash
and blisters on my toes

In concrete pastures do I laugh
clean, tidy is my room
my baskets rough and full of chaff
I’ve traded for a broom

The new year brought a neighborhood
so pretty and so fine
I wouldn’t trade it if I could
turn back the paths of time

The evening sunset I can see
from windows wide and high
no fighting the mosquito, bee
In fading nightly sky

So why am I quite lonely now
why do I dream of fields
blood red as crotons lowly bow
and bougainvillea yields

‘Oh you’ll get used to it, ’ they say
and they are right, I’m sure
those memories saved along the way
are past, they won’t endure

Is not a sunset just as pink
when seen from marbled sill
as running breathlessly to drink
a glimpse of day’s last will

My rocky journey is at end
my place so calm, secure
yet when that orange orb descends
at night, I am not sure.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Margaret O Driscoll 12 January 2016

'In concrete pastures do I laugh', but have memories of mosquitos, crops and sunsets in a distant home land, 'running breathlessly to drink', love it!

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