Sycamore seeds turning like keys,

unlocking new seasons

blown on a breeze,


but now they lay dormant

through Rain and through Snow,

colours fast fading no warming red glow.


Within them sleep Summers and Winters unknown,

but all shall rise up

wherever they're sown.


◄ Bolton Abbey

Survival? ►


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Wolfgar Miere

Fri 8th Feb 2019 06:46

Thank you all,

Stu, I have to admit I get a warmer feeling of contentment if I manage to convey something in a gentler way.

Life can't all be horrible noises.


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Stu Buck

Fri 8th Feb 2019 03:03

i adore your blood and thunder david but these delicates rhyming pieces are where your words come alive

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Jason Bayliss

Fri 8th Feb 2019 00:10

Beautifully written, cyclical 😀

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Phil Kay

Thu 7th Feb 2019 23:31

I love this especially the first stanza. Rebirth and mystery. So simple yet a powerful testament to the nature of nature, as we slowly destroy it.

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Thu 7th Feb 2019 18:03

Sycamore seeds like keys, brilliant! The first stanza could hold up as a haiku - nicely considered poem.


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