Thursday, April 28, 2016

Many seeds sprout out 
of a virgin land of dreams,
bloom into trees,
clouds hang from their branches.

They could have danced in the wind,
stood tall, listening to the night angles.
kissed the dawn, still hung over 
from a drone of the flowing river.

Instead they died under a desert sun.
rain snuffed out the fire
but drowned its roots,
leaves left to float into the drain.

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