Poetry, Quill

Grass and history

Every blade of grass,

That grows in the mud,

Tells a story unseen,

Unheard by anyone,

As they lay under the stars,

Teenagers they were,

And soon came marriage,

The leaves drenched in roses,

As the lightest feet,

Of a child touch the earth,

And soon, old age,

Turned another page,

And the ground was cleared,

Out for a grave,

And the little blades of grass,

Saw it all, yet was silent,

For many had come before,

And many would come again,

And the grass shall stand tall,

To bear it all,

Shining brightly, towards,

Another day.

One thought on “Grass and history”

  1. Inder says:


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