Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 11
the wild flowers below my window
think i am one of them
in this they are not completely wrong-
i too look to the sun

and they donΒ΄t know the words..
i wave in the spring breeze so
they are purple and yellow
sometimes hopeful trumpets..

and sometimes we curl within
and think
dream of bees
recall past lovers..
Written by
Michael John  57/M/SPAIN
Please log in to view and add comments on poems