Day 1545, seeds.

Day 1545

Some of my seed

got spoiled

taken by the wind

into the darkness

~

I hope the rest

leaves

the normal way

during a slight

depression

Day 1539, flower.

Day 1539

The sun is there

and I normally flower

dancing on the grass

with the wind

besides the streets

~

but the streets

are toxic

my address is torn

I am afraid

that I

will not sow

this year

Day 1537, white chalk.

Day 1537

The outline of a flower

drawn on the black street

~

the color that once attracted

has drifted away

the empty shell

will soon

be discarded

~

and the white chalk

that marked

is put away

as to have

in this all

no blame

Day 1536, hard white rocks.

Day 1536

In-between

the hard white rocks

a sun barely reaches

the fertile soil

~

but only the shimmering

of the shadows down there

spur some on

to take over

and go towards

the hope

of some light

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