Poetry · Writing

Creation

The beginning is an unopened map.

A calm pond without a neighbor.

A sprout in a lumonent spring garden.

The sun peaking over molded canyons.

 I am not your father. We

own this together, together

our duty

is to mark this map.

Lay in the garden tending to the tulips.

Swim in the pond and climb those canyons-

as one.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s