*Maybe your hair is blue now
Blue like the song of a mocking jay,
Sweet and cold.
Talking to the wind,
Drenching under the faces of clouds,
Waving at serenity.
Towards the landscape
Your feet smiles to happiness,
The white of your scarf softens,
Soften you start moving inside my eyes.
But I keep it still,
Quiet like the fallen particles of sun
On each of your pores,
Who run miles after miles
Inside your skin
Along with the prairie's wings.
There I am a hidden seed,
Sleeping through the eternity,
To dream you near.*
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 9:19 AM UTC
*Maybe your hair is blue now
Blue like the song of a mocking jay,
Sweet and cold.
Talking to the wind,
Drenching under the faces of clouds,
Waving at serenity.
Towards the landscape
Your feet smiles to happiness,
The white of your scarf softens,
Soften you start moving inside my eyes.
But I keep it still,
Quiet like the fallen particles of sun
On each of your pores,
Who run miles after miles
Inside your skin
Along with the prairie's wings.
There I am a hidden seed,
Sleeping through the eternity,
To dream you near.*
