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sleepy-sighPoems
For years words have dropped Down Into my head, Like rain on the spikes of a bromeliad, Single splashes forming trails And trails and trails Trickling Down Around the bud, To fling themselves into the dirt To splash the roots. Then slowly up the roots they go Into the bud. It soaks them in and soaks them in, It is patient patient patient, Waiting too long, Until I think it'll never open - And then it Blooms.
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Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 10:03 PM UTC
Of Pineapples and Poetry
For years words have dropped Down Into my head, Like rain on the spikes of a bromeliad, Single splashes forming trails And trails and trails Trickling Down Around the bud, To fling themselves into the dirt To splash the roots. Then slowly up the roots they go Into the bud. It soaks them in and soaks them in, It is patient patient patient, Waiting too long, Until I think it'll never open - And then it Blooms.
Written by
sleepy-sigh
26/American
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 10:03 PM UTC
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