There are darknesses in me,
places I would disregard.
Is it any wonder every year
I plant thousands of tiny seeds
and then wander the garden,
rooting for each as overnightly
they put up rows of tiny leaves.
How easily I forget what is possible.
June 2, 2019 by Rosemerry
There are darknesses in me,
places I would disregard.
Is it any wonder every year
I plant thousands of tiny seeds
and then wander the garden,
rooting for each as overnightly
they put up rows of tiny leaves.
How easily I forget what is possible.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged darkness, garden, poem, poetry, possibility, seeds | Leave a Comment
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