David Harris (18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)
The little seeds that were planted
within our childhood spring
make us what we are today
and sometimes make our words sing.
The little seeds that germinated
as years passed and we grew
while in our youth they budded
before our experiences made them flower.
The little seeds of our childhood spring
that blossomed in our adult summer
to radiate even more brightly
in our autumn years.
Comments about this poem (Little Seeds by David Harris )
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