Archive-name: Poetry/harvest.txt

Archive-author: Ariel Witch

Archive-title: Harvest

      



 We have walked

 through the wheatfields

 of our lives.

 Like wheels

 on the wagon of time

 we have moved

 through the golden minuets

 until,

 like sheaves of wheat,

 they have ripened with age

 and now are dust.

 Had we known

 that our lifetime

 would so soon be gone,

 we might have been

 quicker to live.



 We have run

 through the wheatfields

 of our time.



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