The little tender green sprout-ling

Lungs swallowed. 
Heart sulked. 
Canopy drops
And the velum does fall
The rains poureth on  
Too windy
Not spinning 
Un grounded 

Sweet voice.
Tender green tones 
Cut off!
Not my pristine and resonant hues

Stave not!
These roots.

Pine not
Over thine seed.
Quench not
The veld
Nor the spurs of coniferous trees.  

Shine on, dear sunlight.
The roses will rise 
Keep planting 
Keep watering
The garden of love and of life. 

Keep weeding 
the sprouts will soon bud
Rake on and prune off the lilt’d leaf
Revive and renew!

Sweet voice and spirit within me 
Be blessed
And be you.

Published by Silent Singer

The Silent Singer

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