Her heart is very well hidden,
It yearns beneath the shimmering smiles, the glistening eyes, the kiss she sews fondly to your cheek, on your lips,on your skin;
In the hope this harvest carries a reap so fine,
To nourish her mind, to nourish her soul, to revive her within.
There is barrenness within, she’s spent on electing the bad seeds, she cedes her prospects to the hot,spring wind, observing them germinate a field not so far away, a friend, a best friend;
Her tears carry rain that moistens the soil in droughts, but the tears never seem to hold back the storm, they create a flood, subdued no more; drown more prospects out.
She wishes there were a ripened fruit that would let the pain slip away,
that will let her savour it’s taste,
to mend this hurt and barren state
For she can manage the defeat no more,
Of finding in the centre, a rotten core.
So she puts her final trust, final seed;
in the palms of another.
In the hope that it is not too soon,
firm in the hands of a new lover.
Grounded is her seed in you.
This was written on a bus and in bed and whilst having breakfast this morning .May change it slightly.