OREGON TAYLOR FIELDS

 Everything else look perfect, The hung lights, The oriental symbols. Busy food stalls, Waiting attendants, A stage for shows. Still on the floor Left from builders Flaws that did not fit. Still they played Off the lights  And colors. They had no purpose But to say Things were here before.

  The laid there, spread out by a gentle stream.  Some still in a bunch, a few fallen into the stream.  I wondered why. Were they thrown in anger,  Or dropped in a passionate embrace. The fullness of their beauty still there. What would others think. Who would embrace them now. What would they say..