Jenkins Street Poetry Project
A collection of original poems by Don Stinson
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Vegetation
No, no one saw you.
I’m quite sure of that.
Your secret is safe
For another night.
Breathe easier now.
Plant your rank sins deep,
Water them with tears.
In time they may sprout,
Spread out across you,
Vines with blood-red blooms.
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