In darkened shacks on blood soaked soil
Warm and cozy in caring arms
It lies
In twilight hours of punishing poverty
Wrapped in blankets bundled
It sleeps
In sparkling towers of reckless riches
Woken at the sound of singing
It smiles
In hovels built by hurting hands
Warned calmly to be careful
It crawls
In fungal homes of suburban sprawls
Weary from playful pouncing
It sits
In a chill cave full of assorted animals
Waiting for its momentous mounting
It cries
In them all
In one more
lovely this one!
ReplyDeleteyour poem is full of imagery,
ReplyDeletebeautiful wonders.
thanks for the love for potluck poetry,
your talent rocks...
Happy Wednesday!
Great poem... loved it!
ReplyDeleteDude this is really well-penned. You are a fine poet. This poem deserves more comments. Kudos on a good one
ReplyDeleteCheers
Luke @ WordSalad
This is simply fine and beautiful, Fyodor. And the commonality you speak of is true.
ReplyDelete