Partículas i
El huerto gime
y asiste solitario a incontables ocasos,
ausentes las criaturas.
Languidece
la niebla de lo humano.
Flores muertas en la vega,
vaho,
medrosa hulla ingrávida...
Huerto cósmico envuelto en luto
añorando saber de ti
y de mí,
añorando nuestros ecos
y el añil.
¿En qué confín
brazos abiertos
recibirán el leve mensaje?
Nada peor para estas semillas
que el destierro.
Muy bueno, excelente. Saludos
Muy agradecida por su apreciación, @abdulmath. ¡Saludos!
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