in frozen wonderlands
little succulent turtles
grace the window sills
white and plain
the green effusing the room
with a gentle breath
forgetting
the depths of life
are often grasped in plastic hugs
the succulents have dreams
the turtles they weave
will bear the gene of retention
and freedom,
acing lies.
This poem is worth reading, flutent in reading with depth in content. Hugs for poet Susmita Paul
thank you Asokeda!