Like the whirling of a tiny heart.
At the foot of a humming waterfall, incredulous, a dormant sine wave resonates.
Weeping bees enamored of the noontime.
And the enchantment is yours.
You own me like a gulp of air.
Sometimes, I feel pollen,
In the arms of the north wind.
Millions of children are watching me,
From the womb of impenetrable mothers.
On the wall of the fallen,
my name slips away
like August flowers
On deserted graves.
Filed for legal guardianship with Patamu: certificate
Photo by Nik
If you like these poems, you can always donate to support my activity! One coffee is enough!