deepundergroundpoetry.com
Them Seeds
I sit perched with a discipline to my master.
Never biting the hand that feeds me,yet weary of those that want to eat me.
Bowing my head,but only miliseconds at a time,niping at the seeds that help make me be.
I am the wonder,I'm the wish;I am that bird flaping in the wind!
UncleSlam
Published 13th Mar 2019
| Edited 2nd Jan 2020
Author's Note
Per realistic poetry on twitter. Character limiting creates a challenge. Photo not of my own.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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