The seeds are locked away in a vault,
in an icebound cave,
and there they will stay,
until there is time,
until there is courage.
Your seeds are the germ of desires
too secret, too dark to share,
and so they are left on ice
never to blossom, go to fruit, go back to seed
It’s a shame.
You could have sown those fantasies
View other poets on the train.