I see him
Counting pocket change
To buy a flat of pansies
As if to plant his burdens
Deep down in the soil
And stretch his soul
Out on a hammock
Swing in a daydream
Waiting for the colors to burst
And his troubles to lift
I offer him a few crumpled up dollars
From the jeans I wore dirty
Stained from planting my own pansies
Today
Shared pocket change
A very inspired write - planting seeds of kindness sounds good to me. Now, where is my pocket change. Good one Susan.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice. Enjoyed this poem. Has good thoughts.