I have an adobe where I run
whenever I want to be in solitude
I call it my one-word poem
Between a meadow and a lemon tree
along the edge of a grassland.
Where everything in the world
become quite and wither away.
You are the tranquil stillness
after the rumbling of a stormy storm
the forgiving words that fill my sky
and caresses a burned soul
You become a rain
in an endless conversation
Sometimes a road map
to the world unfolds
With a touch
When I leave
I leave
A slice of an umbrella
We hold nothing
But a deep kiss
In your unseen soul
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 1:34 AM UTC
I have an adobe where I run
whenever I want to be in solitude
I call it my one-word poem
Between a meadow and a lemon tree
along the edge of a grassland.
Where everything in the world
become quite and wither away.
You are the tranquil stillness
after the rumbling of a stormy storm
the forgiving words that fill my sky
and caresses a burned soul
You become a rain
in an endless conversation
Sometimes a road map
to the world unfolds
With a touch
When I leave
I leave
A slice of an umbrella
We hold nothing
But a deep kiss
In your unseen soul
