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Joe Cody Poem
From this earth, this dark soul
leaching to the sea, biding
in silence beneath the trees,
and by my calloused hands,
washed by sighs, fed on the
drip, drip, drip of need,
I have wrought a being
that might yet prove fit to be with
you. Come, till the soil of these,
my parched and stunted roots,
and let us shoot into the
green promise of tomorrow.
Copyright © Joe Cody | Year Posted 2023
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