The seed
we pick from our mind
and bury it safely
in our paper pod
We feed it
with our thoughts
water it
with our emotions
Until up
pops
a seedling
a couple of vines
across
a couple of lines
Sprouts shoot stanzas
every which way
Trim the unhealthy
kill your darlings
that are headed no where
Until the plant speaks
the words
grown on its leaves
the pain
at the tip of its thorns
the beauty
in the color of its petals
and the strength
running through its stem
May 8, 2020
Day 32 of 100
Image of unknown origin, used without permission, with no credit taken, no profit made, and no offense intended.
May the garden continue to grow
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