On soil years old
Under the freshly dusk sky
Wrapped with breeze soft and cold
A small group of husks collectively lie.
Little pod bodies in many arrays
Coming in all pod sizes and ways
Pear-shaped or oval, elongated or not,
Little pod people who all feel forgot.
Upon the foliage floor among flora galore
The little pod people obliviously snore,
Their ombre of colours between black and beige.
They each encase a seed-soul in their pod-bodied cage.
All aging slowly, their bodies will rot.
But their little seed-souls will certainly not,
Once pod lays to rest in the ground below
The seeds will full bloom and their souls will grow.
Sprouting out of the ground and into the world
The little pod people will have finally fully unfurled.
