Morgan Michaels

Chamomile - Poem by Morgan Michaels

I am the mighty chamomile.
Only to you lowly-
ach, it's hot!
rooted, immobile, here,
I've a knack
to spin from sunshine, soil and rain
nothing less fine than a flower,
superseding my own
existential dilemma;
if that means aught to you
we shall see you yet, the winter come,
sitting foot propped up
sipping a rich and steamy,
infusion of me.

Listen to this poem:

Comments about Chamomile by Morgan Michaels

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, January 31, 2014

[Hata Bildir]