The Run-aways

And when the ground, too moist
Was turned to rock,
And the selfless abode
Met the roaring flames--
Of Need--and Greed,
The seeds of the land
Floated way too far,
Only to be known as the cowards,
Who fled,
For the greater fame they met.
They branded the runaways,
As those who forgot their roots.
But little did they ever see--
How could the seeds ever remain,
When the roots, they had long wilted?

Reviews

[JerryB]

I admire different slants on things and places of this world of ours. This one gave me great pause as I delved into it. Thank you giving my thought process something new to ponder. This is what poetry is all about!

[Shweta Sunil]

Thankyou so much :")

[Coyote Poetry]

Your words real and true.
"How could the seeds ever remain,
When the roots, they had long wilted?"
Can a dead garden with little hope rise again? I enjoyed this poem. You made me think this morning. Thank you Shweta for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Shweta Sunil]

Thankyou so much,Coyote :)

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome Shweta.