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Regenerative,
My little sea star,
Your vast tide pool home
Shows you beauty of
The sun, so distant,
Yet so warm.

Extraordinary,
My little dreamer,
Your thoughts of the sky
Show you glorious
Relatives, bright stars,
Your namesake.
5 syllables per line except for the last of each stanza.
A G Osborne May 28
Aerate my mind,
Plant the bulbs of new thought,
As germination of your methods begin, roots take in other parts of my brain.
The soil of my mind, so rich with life, do not give me ericaceous ideas.
Know my temperament, know my methods, know what to pollinate.
Let me blossom on my own accord,
While you may be deciduous, let me be
Evergreen.
A G Osborne May 20
No one calls me by my name.
She inhales.
Sprouting life from nothing but what once was.

They grow they walk they run.
Beauty in what they think they do, what they think they should be, what they think is right--
Seeing nothing but themselves in the highest chair.

They separate they split they scream.
Horror in what they create, what they think they should destroy, what they successfully destroy.
She pauses.

Rebuilding what was taken from her. Replenishing her soul. Her essence.
She is life. She is above.
But what do they know --they fall they lay they die.
They repeat. They do not learn.

Ancient being, new life. Perfection, are they error?
She exhales.
Mother.
This is my first publishing! I am very interested in environmental science and our beautiful mother earth, so I hope that conveyed that correctly

— The End —