Word Farm

A poem

Poetry to the power of three, 
the sun will rise and fall to thee

weaned on folk tales, and oral tradition
soil rich from witch burnings, of old superstition

we shelter beneath the gables and decaying wood
rearing words for tomorrow, so we be better understood.

© Darius the Mate


Photo prompt, written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie.


What is life without community? I would love to connect with other nicecissists out there. Reach out, let me know what you think in the comments, and of course, give me a follow for more – nice!

Wordplay Pathway https://nicecissist.blog

2 thoughts on “Word Farm

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