his Eyes are the leafy root of a carrot,
Portals to the sustenance underground.
his Feet are bare but determined to go far.
his mouth is a canopy to a dense forest
Hiding from the world, what lays inside.
his flyaway hair, like a fallen piece of bark,
an imperfection that's part of a perfect picture.
his Thoughts are raindrops pouring off of an elephant leaf,
Small indentations flowing from a vast expanse.
his Voice is the wind, carrying me away to a better place.
his Charisma is Grandfather Mountain who holds old wisdom,
ever durable through the storm.
his Past, a collection of sand,
is molding into a seashell that will take a lifetime to form.
his Soul is a pinecone,
Guarded on the outside but holds something precious to me.
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 8:33 AM UTC
his Eyes are the leafy root of a carrot,
Portals to the sustenance underground.
his Feet are bare but determined to go far.
his mouth is a canopy to a dense forest
Hiding from the world, what lays inside.
his flyaway hair, like a fallen piece of bark,
an imperfection that's part of a perfect picture.
his Thoughts are raindrops pouring off of an elephant leaf,
Small indentations flowing from a vast expanse.
his Voice is the wind, carrying me away to a better place.
his Charisma is Grandfather Mountain who holds old wisdom,
ever durable through the storm.
his Past, a collection of sand,
is molding into a seashell that will take a lifetime to form.
his Soul is a pinecone,
Guarded on the outside but holds something precious to me.
Request permission to use this poem