deepundergroundpoetry.com
Unyielding
What i've woven hardly matters.
With my tapestry in tatters.
Lay in place adorned with shadow.
Await that sunlit meadow.
But the harvest cannot grow,
without one to make it sow.
With my tapestry in tatters.
Lay in place adorned with shadow.
Await that sunlit meadow.
But the harvest cannot grow,
without one to make it sow.
Published 18th Jun 2024
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