Overgrown Poem by Greg Costello

Standing rooted,
inspecting the playing pitch
of my youth.
Time has now reshaped
this field of dreams,
into something
no longer
fit for purpose.
The neglect saddens,
bothers me.
I rail at
the vision of its
unlevel surface,
undefined lines,
and sprawling
unfenced acreage.
What do others think,
when they look upon it now?
Do they consider
the change of landscape
drastic, irreversible?
I dare to look
beyond the untilled;
contemplate restoration.