My dark friend
My mama said a grower's life is natural.
Farming and harvesting.
He touches the beauty in every aspect, the seeds always slip from his rough hands.
He dropped roots in every place he reached.
His precious grew like wildfire in dry yellow leaves, on a stormy night.
I missed my farmer. He planted his roots so profoundly within me.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To My Dark Friend (#Wattys2015)
PoesíaMy Dark friend, I have written those letters for you. It's getting darker before midnight .
