Ditch the ads, upload images and much more - upgrade today from 5.95/month!
Read • Contests • Groups • Learn • Forums • Store • Help
 

[ Grass grows ]

Grass grows
over the graves
of our ancestors

as we grope
each other
in the dark.

The swet
on your palms
is not

from a hard
day of
labor,

nor your
short breath.
how far

we have come.

    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
    : , Your review:

    Comment Suggestion: What is your your first impression?
    • Line numbers  • Invite them to read
    : no Cost: 0 free left 0 points, You have (?)