e-Paper Poetry of Vinx

Sonnets: Woods of trees

Come to the forest
To see for yourself
The beauty in greens
And the main reason
Mustard seeds decay;
Well, breathe comes from death
Germinating through
The touch of seasons;
Spore sprout by the sun
One layer in rows
Rings begin to grow,
Giving it the strength
And rigid backbones
To grow to any length.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

11 Comments

  1. Wordcipher says:

    Maybe being an agriculturalist makes me appreciate this poem a little more. Forest…maybe I will spend a day in one soon again.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Wordcipher says:

    A tourist wants to get as many attractions as possible. An agriculturalist, is looking at one aspect and may never hear nature speak because he is too engrossed in one aspect.

    Liked by 1 person

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