There is a broken hoe

aside the road,

which is eroding so;

the hoe must go!

I drive pass it,

upon everyday;

and every day,

the hoe remains.

Happiness came,

but time outlasts;

at most the feelings have come to pass.

That rusty bawd tills and toils my soul!

“The farmer died, he had a wife;

and now she sees through sorrowful eyes.

The crops burnt black, corn shelled in husks;

like twists of ash layered with dust.”

For I know,

I cannot escape the past;

hate preys upon heartache;

memories will not fade

nor my recollection

dissipate.

I beg and plea for my mind to erase the pain;

expunge such a horrible fate

which took my lover away.