and they called it paradise
if you brush aside the obvious
you will find seeds have begun
to sprout
in what was once known
as paradise
I first met you there
when the moon was but a mural
germinating in the back
of our minds
how we talked about
painting the sky
when the sun
was nowhere to be found
just when everything
seemed to be perfect
the world
burns to the ground
the story resorting
to starting all over again
and those seeds
once clenched in your fists
are forever scattering
november two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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