I Am Grass
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The horror of Covid dead bodies pile up in the grass,
they died alone and now my growing is disturbed;
bury them deep, so I, the grass can grow over them.
When I am done they will be out of sight, forgotten,
but, I pray some will remember and bring flowers;
to lay in my new grown green grass.
I welcome the rabbits, the squirrels, birds and chipmunks;
for they love being in the grass, that I am.
Yes, I am cemetery grass,
and I have a job to do!
______________________
March 20, 2023
Poetry/Personification/I Am Grass
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1532-771-20
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, In The Grass
sponsor, Anthony Biaanco, Judged 05/30/2023
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2023
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