The sun tries to coax me up
But I dig my roots deeper
into soil that has fed me, kept me
safe through winter’s cold.
I see the crape myrtle–
its bright pink flowers abandoned
for tiny green leaves. I feel the weight
of dead petals heavy on the earth above.
Daffodils droop their heads low,
and in a whisper, strengthen my resolve.
The Living Poetry Project and NEVERMORE
8 years ago
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