I want you to send me flowers from your December garden
to whisper with my girls,
champagne and berries,
pomegranate seeds in my stomach
a vain feeling of weekness,
And on my notepad I wrote
seeing of you
and knowing of what is yours
and my fire grew
with my girls, they understood
Those three girls, they understand my minds coils better than any man or any beach
perhaps any dock
they play for me their serenades with their hands,
they have wind in their hair and deepness in their being
they are big time believers that they exist better than some, and they do
Comments
Post a Comment