Dew On My Stump
The stump on which I sit
Drawn to reverie each new day,
Today was wet with mist;
A trait of the mystery
Of dew on my stump.
All the tall grass
Around the foot so lovely
Like stockade in their dance.
With leaves fresh with dew,
My soul fortress of refuge.
This stump on which I sit
Today on it I can't sit
Unless I accept to get wet
With red quill ink like dew
On the stump I so much love.
And so from beside the stump
Where lay buried a precious childbirth
I stay with my head on my laps
As with emotion these lines I write
For the dew on my stump.
Copyright © Messoh Vincent | Year Posted 2016
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