Scraping of Shovels

If it weren't for you I'd still be scraping the shovels On land hinged by drought Digging for achromatic memories Beneath phlegmatic coarse woody debris At trackless fields of feelings In tenacious grip of my fingers I would be scraping gravels from dessicated plains Each path winding to you through echor Would have lost existence Left untrodden for eons In limerance of your enigmatic charm Bolstering labyrinth of emotions Would have looked down upon Lacerations on my vulnerable heart To unearth dormant seed of your presence To lighten pebbles and dried mud And moisten it with my tearful soul 09/03/2019