deepundergroundpoetry.com

From the Apple Seed

Like anvil clouds hanging over you
And the bright rainbow in its arch
I am homesick for Arlington, a place
I have never been. Like April showers
The rain is pouring and the anarchy
Is rising from the ashes. Amends are
Not easy to make, but we are aglow
And whole. I am not here to appease
Or please anyone else. I avoid chaos.
I am growing from the apple seed.
Written by eswaller
Published | Edited 4th Jan 2019
Author's Note
Submitted for “Through The Alphabet: Letter A” competition.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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