Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2018
I put my ear
to the dirt under my orange tree,
to the jagged edge of a pale stone,
to the petal of a wilting flower,
to my dog's soft fur,
to my lover's beating heart,
to my mother's womb,
to my grandfather's wrinkled brow,
to our dripping blood and flowing tears,
laughing bellies and smirking lips,
and everywhere
I heard
the same
Quantum Song.
Lonely Solipsist
Written by
Lonely Solipsist
  366
   J
Please log in to view and add comments on poems