
Planted
Time took
my oldest friend’s life.
Her son took reams of paper,
scribbled with phrases and
her partially complete poems,
and put them in a metal box.
Locked it, and then buried it
in a corner of the garden.
Rain fell down on it, but it
never blossomed,
nor ever bore fruit.
Shared #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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