LEAVES OF GRASS-REVISITED

We are but blades of grass

On our allotted graves

For a time we grow and

Re-grow

And then it is done.

We are dug up and thrown into

Our own patch of land.

Each dust particle a receptacle

Of our life’s memories.

We never die but grow

Up bright as little blooms

Swaying in the Sun

A pleasant breeze.

Some day they’ll

Sift the sands

And charge the grains

Perhaps some day we will live again.