That grows from your hands…by G. Mramor


And indifference bears its heart stone,

Though a million words be spilt

Love lords only the is.

 

In time remember will divest me of this,

For a voice in a box

An unwanted stone sings its spring.

 

A rose is no flower that grows from sand,

And a love is not remembered

When it grows from your hand.

Advertisements

enter the discussion:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s