Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2017
when i die pour me into the veins
of an olive tree
let me grow from pits and fruit
heat me with my oil
steam me with the sea
let me grow from ancient
bones
where i'll wait until you're ready
to be fed by my silver

three thousand years i lay
intact
no wonder i am magic.
bythesea
Written by
bythesea  30
(30)   
310
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems