Sometimes, it is the seeds sown
yet not grown
that burn the memories deepest.
Sometimes, it is the stories
unfinished
that repeat,
their beating in my skull.
Sometimes, it is the same pain,
this season,
each year,
that calls,
repeating.
Sometimes,
I find it hard to breathe.
plumdirt 
TWO IN ONE
Sweet and sour
Unique appeal
Fulsome flower
Each life is real
So we conceal
Our private pain
In words that reveal
It does yet remain
❤
Blessings and Light to you💛
Thank you, kindly.