(no subject)

[apiphile]

no more green fingers

love fled before me like grass before the scythe
and not the draining of the tide:
it is gone, felled and scatttered
transformed and digested.
it will be several seasons before
anything can grow here again;
perhaps i am barren ground now,
all my growing given up,
the recycled love given over to feed
someone else's garden.

Comments

[wolfy_writing]

I really like this!