A seed is that which grows alone.
Sprouting tendrils on its own,
rooting deeply into the loam,
springing up where the Sun once shone…
My seeds grew in yesterday,
where lovers loved and puppies played.
Where summers blossomed and winters frayed.
But these seeds are yours today,
for mine are old and washed away.
So watch the puppies play.
Love your lover every day.
Hold her tight and never say
“There’s time enough for another day.”
For even the Great Oak will fall this way….
it’s seed long gone in yesterday.
And soon these things will be yours to say…
to young lovers and puppies that play.
© 2014 John Allen Richter
Hoping to share this with the wonderful artists at dversepoets.com, where Tuesdays are open link nights for those who care to bare the soul……