Sunday, May 13, 2018

What still grows
in the winter,
in the darkness?
Of my heart?
No leaves ever wither and die
Never an afterthought.
I float into the embrace of this
chilly spice,
unraveling every pulse
every vein and vessel
to gather and knit.
Hang it on a wall,
I want to see.
It is living, it is breathing
What still grows...
It is evergreen

Post Comment
Post a Comment

Auto Post Signature

Auto Post  Signature