Bygone

I wish to wish not
For the things that have gone
Dusted away with the passage of time
Wrapped in a shroud of industries creation
The romantics have withdrawn into mist
 
Drunk on love's hangover
As petals dip under the fog of defeat
The sun hides swallowed, in bog and smoke
Days once golden, now grey, ashen, and thick
Smothered by achievements marching rhythm
 
Fields recede into the begotten
The chain reaction spreads to wheat and rye
I wish to wish not for signs of earthly heaven
Yet first aids bandage cannot stop the stain
Romance has died and industry reigns
 
RRG © 9.21.2018