Planting
We step inside
pictures,
sketches of our
outer selves,
lived in and eaten
whole.
We count ourselves
unworthy
of the things
we need.
It’s not a
question of want;
in knowing who
we are,
we’ve
calculated what we have.
Life doesn’t
live behind closed
doors. And we
can’t breathe sorrow.
These potted
plants cannot grow
without water,
love and sun.
Copyright
Vickie Johnstone, January 29, 2021
maxine here on keiths laptop i really liked this poem and connectedwith it x
ReplyDelete