We wander amist
fields of flowers.
Her eyes light up
at the sight of petals,
turned towards the sun.
Instictively she has to
feel, to take in the scent,
the sensation of touching
the softness of nature,
at its most fragile form.
In this moment I could
not love her more.
YOU ARE READING
Intermission
PoetryPoetry written many years ago. I found my voice and lost it. As a step towards recovering my voice I decided to share these poems.
