Tuesday, April 08, 2014


It's waving in the wind
on stalks of golden brown
rising up triumphantly,
and prized upon the floor
by those that like to walk
all over it,
sometimes it's but a tick
that tumbles much too fast
within a glassy cell,
and often it gets rubbed
by those that always choose
to go the other way.


Donna Smith said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Donna Smith said...

Lots of grains...
Some on the plain
and needing rain,
Some love dark stain,
Some bind in chain
Some induce a pain.

(edited previous comment)

rch said...

I love it Donna!