::03:27:08::

::: Little Pink Blossoms :::

If I plant you, I just might plant me
into the manure of Sebastopol.
Our bodies will be seeds.
Our limbs will take root and weave
miles of intertwining stock.
Dipping into hidden aquifers.
Our tongues will sprout
a pair of fine Gravensteins.
We’ll branch out with tiny leaves
and pretty little pink blossoms.
I will see your heartbreak sparkle
in the years you bear fruit.
Finally, we will realize eternity,
dead and buried amongst the trees.

Written by: ~ Dean Walker