birthday poem

my soul is a dark ploughed field
noises that strive to tear
the dawn was apple-green
there were three in the meadow by the brook
do i like it
did you ever hear of
hang no wreath
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
and how could you dream of meeting
and so it goes
i have had one fear in my life
with joy and wonder
thou unrelenting past