Stevie Taite (30th January 1973 / Kent, England)
She was sitting, pretty
The metal serpent was transporting her from her flowery garden.
The heat of Summer was beautiful, perfect, all she wanted.
Then why, when cool shade, with a gentle breeze, never failed to complement,
did the heat of the old city call her?
He was waiting
Her own shyness had once been the best and most obstinate doorman.
Never allowing her more than a glimpse passed his wonderful facade.
Leaving only the room in her mind to explore freely
But now, where confidence had grown and curiosity sheltered
Where the grass was well trodden
And foundations set deeply elsewhere.
The edge, that fear had
kept her teetering.......
Now she would land softly.
It was safe to seek the buried seed, that was never destined to grow under shadows cast.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Buried Seed by Stevie Taite )
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