As I yearn to understand reverence,
A soft glow settles upon my skin, warming and kneading,
filtering through my soil, replenishing the innocence of mother.
A sprinkle of water flows, copying the many that have come before,
cascading across my petals and drowning in the morrow.
What fun! I scream, allowing my senses to become fertile,
but, what of this reverence I yearn?
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.07 seconds at 11:50am on Dec 23, 2024 via server WEBX1.