The Greenfield

The greenfield of those evenings,

are no more now,

No longer of those gatherings,

where they use to spent their leisure

Walking with their wheels aside,

Cracking jokes on the teacher's shit,

Putting up his itching thing,

His psychic thoughts and smile.

Down to the greenfield,

Buying "fritters",of ten bucks,

In no time, the empty packet

Calls him starving fox.

Not again his mother,

Calling every twenty minutes,

Yes, the hillside tomorrow,

Which are no more now.

The greenfield of those evenings,

Recalls the dreams,

That dwell inside them,

Which are no more now....