girasole;
mocha coffee soaked threads
twirled around
into pirouettes of solar
rays wrapped
into tender shoots of
golden growth around the
center,
the sunflower danced in the rain while facing the sun, even through the clouds. it was a compass and the sun was its north. it sang and splashed in the silver threads of golden dew, spinning like old vinyls but never forgetting to smile,
the sunflower rambled deep wonderings of translations it depicted from lovely little things in life, knitting a story with each word its sunflowers sang as the soft wind blew them,
sweet girasole;
twirling the language
of the flowers between it's
sunrise tinted teeth,
writing poetry to feel beautiful,
—from your ortensia <3
