B.C. [Before Computers]



Across the plains of time
The breeze shimmers the wheat
Among the cedars speckling the prairie.

On the brim of this ocean of earth,
Toothpick tall telephone poles
Crucify the ghosts lost in the era,
Filling the void with obsolete souls.

I can still hear their voice’s echo
In the cusp of technology,
Ringing in my ears,
The present future’s new birth.

10/29/2013



Poetry by Clara Mae Gregory The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 6 times
Written on 2026-03-28 at 01:15

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