Slow down the years

A tired town lingers

Hanging on by just

A thread

Unravelled from a well worn

Coat that clings

To cardboard cut out 

Scarecrow shoulders.

Broken apple crates

Lean in drunken stacks

And the green sea of suckers

Rises up in its hungry overgrowth 

to swallow idle tractors

And broke wheeled wagons

By the hundreds.

© Erik Hansen 2015


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Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing

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