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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Thanks, Hobbo. I’ve since told my children to please bury all my scribbles and notebooks, rather than throw them in a bin. My eldest said, That’s going to be a damned big hole. As for my friend, she had a very long life, and I’m a happier and better person for knowing her. And I told her so. ❤️
So sad. Grief is a powerful thing and it comes through very strongly … beautifully penned.
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