An old man sits in a kichen chair, very much is his present.
Nothing grows here anymore.
His children are raising him now.
His grandchildrens' toys remind him of how full of fire he use to be.
He remembers how his blood, sweat and tears went in to the soil fo his life.
Now nothing grows here.
The soil is resting and so is he.
He has placed seeds of life in his children.
Now is the time for them to grow and place seeds of growth in their children.
Maybe he can teach them how to enrich their soil.
Maybe they will listen.
But for now,
nothing grows here.
Comments
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This is a wonderful poem!!!
You have a great talent! I want to read more!
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