The miles between us span this planet Earth,
but in our minds appear the thoughts we share,
as if a shoot were grafted from one root.
In distant land, with different ways and climes,
you flourished. Our common ancestry, it seems,
has planted deep imagination's seeds
which flower now. The dormant days are past.
Our generations may cross-pollinate
until an orchard rises from our dreams.
Couldn't resist the play on words, after a serious attempt to produce some blank verse for One Stop Poetry, which is hard graft of a different kind! So now I've linked it to One Shot Wednesday and The Poetry Pantry.