185 of 187

by Grettel V.

Where did I came from?
Some cold bird picked me up from an island,
full of green immensity,
poor in that fresh air called freedom.
At noon in winter,
mighty sun in the chilly morning,
I was born to my parent's love,
same one that's gone now.
Across the seas
Grandpa brought his fifteen augusts,
grew up his grass, fed his flowers,
never came back.
Through a dark string of creatures,
life molecules penetrate my bones,
surviving nature was the thought.
I seek much deeper,
yet can find the answer.
Maybe it's my eyes, too wide open.
When I learn to close them,
I'll find the clues.

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Poetry: Far away

by Grettel V.

Poetry: Far away

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