Buried Poetry

Paper and pencils made a birth:

Poetry that I once wrote her.

There's nothing we were holding down.

Nothing we were holding down.

I kept a favorite photograph

Of her and I in the tall dream grass.

And nothing here could take us down.

Nothing here could take us down.

Paper buried in the dirt:

It's all the poetry that I once wrote her.

It's something we were burning down.

Something we were burning down.

I lost my favorite photographs

Buried deep in the tall dream grass.

There's so much I am holding down.

(So much I am holding down.)

There's so much I am holding down.