song of myself

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love. If you want me again,
look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, but I shall be good health to you nevertheless, and filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first,
keep encouraged.
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

Advertisements

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: