Lost Dream

A scarecrow's rebellious last-stand
Pensive sweat, by farmhand.
Windswept conductor blustery toll,
Repossessing straw callousness stole.

Decrepit farmhouse in gilded field,
Broken shutters and paint peeled.
Aimless amid bent parched gold,
Screen-door dins, a respite from cold.

A candle flits behind aged sheers,
Rolling thunder clashes, unshed tears.
Eerie flicks by scaffolding light,
 Blinking luster guns for a fight

Wispy shadows waltz on a porch,
Avoidant detection by candle scorch.
Frigid wind seeps weathered pane,
Beckons soak of overdue rain.

Cracks and creaks shutter’s mourn,
A tribute to great depression's scorn.
Man of straw remembers a story,
When crops flourished in fields of glory.

Aspirations crash kin harshness outside
Crestfallen like grain farmer's pride.
Remnants in corners of sawdust mind,
Timeworn semblance left behind.

Muted prayer to long-dead saints,
Stitched-lips silence, fruitless complaints.
Pursuant redemption in forgotten field,
Which heaven nor hell will nary yield

Elements claim fragments in a gale,
Yesteryears lament whinging folktale.
To recapture illusions, fleet magic slips,
Rheumatic hands chafed fingertips.

A barn shunned by shameful disrepair,
Delusions of grandeur one cannot bear.
Abandoned buildings crumbled self-esteem,
Adrift betwixt visions of a lost dream.