Passing On

Rustling leaves along the smooth red fade of pyracantha 

Hummingbirds hover gracefully over trees

Fast wings will fly away with my mind chanting mantras

But the melody of my words are lost in bees 

Pollen to which I’m allergic they gather and bring to me

Mistaken because I am no queen, I sneeze

No peasant, no person, no love to which I’m chosen to be 

Just living on the surface, drifting with the breeze 

Peace, love and knowledge gently floating on the sea 

Under the sun I am who fell off, so I am what… Leaves?

Hoping to pass on what I have, I let go of my seeds.

© The Sad Owl

Published by

The Sad Owl

I'm just here. Until I'm not.

6 thoughts on “Passing On”

    1. “followed me – [,]to see I wasn’t the real deal”. There is something in that entire thought that made me sad but somehow inspired a bit. I like your interpretation it gave me a few interesting ideas!


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