The Seeds

THE SEEDS
June, 2015

It started with a breeze,
Sunny day in June, 
When the sun is at its sweetest.
Offerings of hope and optimism hinting at
Notion of bountiful fall harvest. 

He started with a smile,
His harsh words floating
Across an open field.
Tickling the ears
Of the curious in attendance.

Jaws dropped, and
a few felt the scratch. 
That undeniable stab 
that initiates the wound, 
oh, but a prick…

Others, so happy to bask in orange glow of celebrity,
Thinking it would somehow bring them closer to the sun 
(and to the riches of man),
Let the acid whisker thru one ear and out the other, 
Not knowing there was residue.

Residue, if left unwashed, 
would seep its poison into their
hearts and souls, giving birth to
fear filled clouds of hate,
swiftly swallowing the sun.
 

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Date: 3/3/2017 12:44:00 AM
That's how it happens doesn't it? It creeps in slowly. I love it how you are making a statement without stating the obvious. Good poetry.
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