I thought you had abandoned me,
saw through my skin,
made nauseous by what lay within,
a chrysalis half-cracked
a struggling pupae trapped,
colander-pecked by cunning birds
but living still – oh, just, oh,
just.
You took and placed me on your hand,
crooned sweet concern,
warm zephyr that stirred, then
spoke command –
'Come out!'
I did.
YOU ARE READING
Borealis Love
PoetryLove - what does that word mean, what does it comprise? Do we always recognise it when faced with it? Do we value it when we ought to do so? Do we squander it when it is too easily given? Do we ever understand until it has left us and we are left to...
