A Poem

By H Mitchell


As sunlit sprouts yawned into maturity

Their feeble arms waving into the expanse

Of gleaming greenery dusted with dew

The milky opalescence of plump buds shone

Timidly as they opened in greeting

To the temperamental warmth of the spring sun.

It was then

On That Day

When the ambrosia

Of the burgeoning jacarandas coated

The streets aggressively and the sun winked

Suggestively until

You feel something similar to unease

That you know

You have


All along.

As the sprouts found their veined fingers

As the rose buds beamed coyly

As the jacarandas fluttered fragrantly

As if they were lilac butterflies in the breeze

As nature continued its orbit of rebirth and


They found his stiff 17 year old body – a stab wound to the heart

The sun reflecting across the gash on his forehead

The grass snaking between his frozen fingers

Sticky with blood

Like an overripe pomegranate.

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