As the cotton grows
28 July 2016
Weather beats
Through my aching heart
A chilled start
To mornings
We will wither in deserts
When the sun rises
There are rhymes
In my mind’s blue hues
They plant clues
In morrows
When the boatman collects dues
Off my broken limbs
Bound in Time
The windmill that sows
Fleshy seed
Ethereal
Glowing through my barren frame
As the cotton grows
Reading of the poem:
Dying to live – Poets of the Fall
Rewind – Poets of the Fall
Roses – Poets of the Fall
Geetha Balvannanathan's Blog - Isis Tratum