poetry

Garden

i walked into the garden
this morning

i looked into its face,

it said (nothing)
other than its leaves
calling my sleep-wet eyes
and naïve grass grabbing my feet.
it entered a song into my
sentences

(i rather not speak about)
except say that, not all
the bugs find you.

only the rabbit came, he
licked my feet
and asked to stay.

PhilosopherPoet

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