poetry

Beneath

I knew a mole who lived

In a hole

And despite his dreams

He stayed there.

Its was warm for him,

And he liked the sound

Of the grass growing.

Β 

Time crawled by through

Better soil, and the mole

Stayed curled in a coil.

He did not want to know

What daylight would do

To dark fur.

Β 

The mole grew into his hole,

He would take a quick sniff

Checking the weather,

Then cover himself up again.

He couldn’t go, not knowing

The next steps, once he’d left.

Β 

I knew a mole, he buried something,

People call it a soul.

He couldn’t smell the scents ahead,

But I could tell (from an old bed),

Life was coming.

Β 

PhilosopherPoet

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