The snails slumber
in the shade
of the rose leaf,
while the worms
below
churn black soil
like the steel
propeller
of a gray cruiser
furrows
green waves
in the southern sea.
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Literature, Art, Poetry, Psychology, Reviews, Short Stories, Fantasy Fiction, Surrealism, Poems
1 comment:
Lovely alliteration as she opened and I am reading her like she contains a metaphor within her. Like there is always something underneath what you first see. Well my take anyway and everyone sees, hears things differently; right? I do like how you write Keith. You are good for the old grey matter.
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