deepundergroundpoetry.com
Oh
The buzzing of wings in
the backyard ivy.
Cold nights.
Clear days.
So many stones in my soil,
so few of what I grew.
I till it under
only to try again next year.
Like a starving man
digging for potatoes.
I am the blight
that slowly kills what I love.
the backyard ivy.
Cold nights.
Clear days.
So many stones in my soil,
so few of what I grew.
I till it under
only to try again next year.
Like a starving man
digging for potatoes.
I am the blight
that slowly kills what I love.
Published 3rd Oct 2019
Author's Note
Spreading gravel on a cold day.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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3rd Oct 2019 6:04am
3rd Oct 2019 12:21pm
