By Thomas Page

To the little fiend
Who is calling my stomach
Home, you need to scram

Every time we tell
Ourselves “what in the Lord’s name
Is this sickness” flu?

The displaced rosebush
On alien soul starts
To bloom differently

Will there be flowers
In the coming centuries?
A world without spring?

Leave a Reply

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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s