White flower poetry ...
White flower poetry ...
The coldness of the morning was not too much of a concern, though sometimes it felt piercing bones, footsteps still penetrate the wild grass that bowed with drizzle points at the ceiling and morning mist along with dry dust that drifted over the stretch of green grass rug ..
Quiet nature continues to carry this journey in search of the silence of the soul and the whiteness of love, white flowers no longer scatter the soft fragrance other than the scent of dust that clings to the ends of the lips closed silently trapped self turmoil, my steps stopped when the cliff facing high that I could not climb with a heart that continued to whisper softly ... come back.
Stunned myself under the rigidity of a long stretching heart, drizzle returned to wet the earth, the fog accompanied me in the silence of stepping in the wild grass, there was no longer the softness of the flowers dancing with the rustling of songs or the yellowing of the sign in front of my eyes, I saw only a single piece white flowers that grow wildly among the sharp weeds that have the heart to squeeze him, but he remains strong despite the dust and drizzle points embracing him in a gray mist, I want to pull out and plant it in a flowering garden down there, but the heart to whisper let him growing here in silence, the beetle will come to seed his life, and I'm fixated on a beautiful white flower wrapped in dust and dew ..
I began to set foot leaving the cliff of arrogance, I left this white flower growing with weeds that I hoped would accompany and dance as the morning sunlight began to shine in thick fog and leave in the morning, the sun would send beetles to enjoy the honey in the middle of the green grass ..