Note Nineteen

Art: Vincent van Gogh 'The Reaper'

Note Nineteen

Draft 2

By: Chase L. Currie

 

The sun yawns,

The scythe sharpens on the stone,

The stocks,

Ready to be

                Reaped,

The sun whips our backs,

The sweat petting my brow and -

 

I look to my left

                There toils an artist,

                She can bend hues to her will,

                Make the angels smile at her composition,

 

I look to the right

                A singer,

                Hums a tune,

                It brings the master’s heart to tears,

 

But we toil in the field,

With bloody bones,

                Broken souls,

                Reaping the dreams of others,

 

And then, to the horror

Of my master,

He came around,

                In His speedster of gold,

For me to give Him,

                A tale,

                A poem,

 

While He blesses me with,

                Faith,

                Hope,

 

The Man came around in all White,

To take the scythe,

To give me a pen.