Soft green lances of grass
Sweet and supple, I imagine.
They tower up into the sky,
Reaching, reaching, reaching,
A contrast to the cold hard dark rocks in the lake.
One stretches up,
The other hunkers low.
But it is not like they have a Choice in the matter.
That is how, why, and wherefore they were created.
We all have a different purpose in life.
me.gs
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 10:29 PM UTC
Soft green lances of grass
Sweet and supple, I imagine.
They tower up into the sky,
Reaching, reaching, reaching,
A contrast to the cold hard dark rocks in the lake.
One stretches up,
The other hunkers low.
But it is not like they have a Choice in the matter.
That is how, why, and wherefore they were created.
We all have a different purpose in life.
me.gs
