Sealed
Grace knocked softly on my door
Yesterday is another ominous shadow
In every tempest, I find my favourite tune
Reminding me to what I’ve become immune
to experiences which can never harvest
forgotten memories which remain starless
To any shore which can never be reached
To any love which is misty, incomplete.
Maybe my soil is varnished in crimson red
from all the open wounds that must have bled
with every silent poem I have written and shared
of my sweet and sour journey here on Earth.
Away and yet here
Mystified and fulfilled
I wait for new seeds to blossom
and bury what has been sealed.
10-04-2018
4rth Place
Contest: Ten Words
Sponsor: Joseph May
Judged: 04/23/2018
10 Required words used in order of appearance:
misty shadow shore crimson tempest
forgotten yesterday harvest love grace
Copyright © Natasha Turner | Year Posted 2018
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