That grows from your hands…by G. Mramor

And indifference bears its heart stone,

Though a million words be spilt

Love lords only the is.


In time remember will divest me of this,

For a voice in a box

An unwanted stone sings its spring.


A rose is no flower that grows from sand,

And a love is not remembered

When it grows from your hand.

Author: mramor90

Montessori Teacher

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