For visually challenged writers, the image shows a green man (with the traditional leaves for his hair) emerging from a bricked up tunnel.
Blessings I am not who they think I am They think I represent nature, WRONG My heart, if I had one would be black, torn Created by a curse No one can hide from me Walls do not a prison make I cannot be caged by thought or deed I collect tears to mix with rain To keep emotions in the world of people Other planets have their own methods of keeping feelings alive Not all are as gentle as my ways Count your blessings, including the rain… © AnitaDawes 2021
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