Was it the wind?
Was it your smile?
My mind travelled
to all corners,
for miles and miles.
To find anwers
to these riddles.
What was it
that made me
into a vine,
crawling its way
into your heart?
What was it
that turned me
into a sunflower
that only longs
for your sunlight?
What was it
that made me fall
down into the abyss
of uncertainty?
How did this happen?
How did I fall?
Was it the wind?
or simply your smile?
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Green Meadows
PoesíaLife is a green meadow where green grasses grow. Some are tall bushes; some are just short weeds. No matter the length, no matter the size. Each one has a story; each one has roots. All are rooted to the humble earth, and all are under the radiant s...
