Teach me love
I know nothing
'Lack of experience'
Has robbed me from knowing
I am lonely
My voice is silent
Maybe I should
Talk to the flowers
Their bonny faces
Will turn irrespectively
To mine I will be met
With smiles and bobbing
Heads and then I will
Take my scissors and
Chop chop chop until
Their heads lie at my feet
I will keep them smiling forever
I will go to the edge and
Whisper secrets to the
Sea as it hushes me
Don't spill your words
And then I will
Carelessly spoil oil
Onto its surface
Watch, amused, as
The gulls are made
Flightless, the fish
Rise slowly to lay
Bobbing corpses
Rotting coral.
The sea didn't listen
It told me not to worry
Over and over, washing
my imprints of thoughts
Away. I have scissors
In my hand, lean in closer.
The world is dying. Perhaps
We are in a place to prevent
It, perhaps it is inevitable.
Take the scissors, throw them away.
Listen to the earth, sea and sky.
They will teach you love.
YOU ARE READING
Petrichor
PoetryWe grow old eventually {here are the waking thoughts that consume me}
