Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2013
I dig my hands into the earth
from whence I came to be
aromas of fresh tilling
warmed by sun: the earth and me.

And if when gone, my silly bones
enrich this dirt some more
then I have reached my destiny
and will not have been so poor.

Imagination soundless
save for gentle blowing breeze
all thought made unrequired
by whispers in the trees.

I open up my throat
breathing deeply of free air
close my eyes, enraptured
of a day without a care.

They say the devil heats his hearth
with the fire of human sin
but I don't think that can be true
'cos I keep mine locked within.

It cleanses me by burning bright
and renews me every day
the white-hot fire of my wrongs
burns my sins away.

Crystal clear and glittering
in sunshine wave and tide
the waters of my oceans
in whose depths my heart shall hide.

For feeling silky torrents
wash my fears away
take me to the ocean
far from blue I cannot stay.
Miss Tabitha Devereaux
Please log in to view and add comments on poems