I Am the Grass That Grows
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Between the rows and rows of tombs of your beloved gone
I cover all the bones that lay beneath me-
I am the grass that grows.
Soft and green in sun and rain and when ice falls down, down
I rest peaceful under the pristine winter snow
for no footsteps break my smoothness
when fierce wild winds blow.
I am the grass that grows.
Come sad mourners in spring to weep and bring roses red
rest on my velvety smoothness and pray
do you hear the quiet whispers of the beloved bones beneath.
I am the grass that grows.
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April 2, 2018
Poetry/Personification/I am the Grass That Grows
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1009728-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, It's A Shorty
sponsor, Deborah Guenther Beachboard
First Place
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Poem of the Day - April 4, 2018
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2018
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