Wind Faring Home Quiet by the window, finally I’m being offhand Allowing the persuasive wind to agitate my hair And take me to endless rose fields of a dreamland Where in a velvet fantasy, inhaling anaesthetic air I’m breathing reminiscence of endlessness. There Life is unpretentious and earth is speeding slowly The spirits of the forests maintaining wild, squares Of concealed, minuscule hamlets strewed sprawly Pleasantly the ripeness of the figs invites my hand To pick the finest! I am cured from my blindness By signifying vision of monasteries, hidden upland Within sacred mountains, shielding olden kindness The kisses of the ground reminding me the womb Of someone I have lost, unfound till now, a name For sunny bathed fields of yawning poppies’ bloom Where fertile grapevine land has destined its claim Through over farthest lands To languid golden sands And crispiness of black loam Entreasuring my hand The wind has brought me Home! LubenaNova2013
Posted on: Sun, 08 Sep 2013 08:26:39 +0000
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