Resurrect Me

[Lmc71775]

I am compelled to listen to the chirping birds,
echoing off the trees. The chatter brings morning light
to rise into a pale blue sky, yet darkness still lingers.

Shadows of yesterday buries itself in the fresh ground.
The scent of the past fondles my skin in the cool breeze,
as I suck in smoke from the first morning cigarette.

Time waits to bloom into a full-fledged day— watches
when the right moment will occur to capture life
with a photo lens of clarity.

I have the sense that I can see through without
ever really having to open my eyes. If only I could tell
my heart to stop beating down a reign of doubt.

I am compelled to feel the velvet leaves budding
into green—thick with the richness of Earth’s growth
and hope the yesterdays will resurrect into angel’s wings.

[Dan Gallo]

Hi Lmc,

for me this seems more like really nice prose than a poem, aside from the line breaks. I didn't feel like it was telling me anything other than what is written here, maybe you could pare it down?

Also, line one of stanza two should read shadows of yesterday bury themselves, not shadows of yesterday bury itself.

This is really well written, don't get me wrong. But why is it a poem?