Sewing the Seeds
planted in gray, darkness surrounds,
Spark in his way.
Cannot ignore sewing this light, arms locked in arms, nothing seems right.
Won’t dare give up
Won’t dare give in
Won’t let it go
Watching his sin.
Lies pile up, actions so bold, cannot escape, carelessness cold.
Spotlight will mark
Eyes will all see
Can’t let it be.
Years will countdown, thinks its all fame
Fists will be raised.
It’s. Not. A. Game.
Paula Antonello Moore, Poetry. Copyright: Tuesday January 24, 2017.
Image: Seedlings by Markus Spiske from Stock Snap.