dressed in earth
hands in dirt
hugged by trees
smelling of herbslittle joyful
nature's child
a high spirit
living wildthe color
of earth
mother
of birthtree branches
mirroring eyes
her empire
diesthe ruins
of her story
tell the wedding
in its glorymy saint
lead the fire
for they not tolerate
in your desirethey told
a lie
little they know
it will dieshameless
she presents
so strong
when she descendsfrom heavenly
the angels realm
for her wishes
time is overwhelma lifetime
not enough
she not believe
what she breaksmother
of forest
lead us
through harvestmy saint
my mother
moon Hilaria's
daughter
YOU ARE READING
Talking heart
PoésieTransferring my thoughts in form of poetry. To understand myself, probably, maybe.