beautiful things

by Katyslany


I like old sunflowers
who no longer bend themselves up to face the sky—
sunflowers for whom
the earth is bright enough.


She danced me to the edge of the cliff
Broke my heart into a thousand birds
And then leaping off without a word
She taught them to fly.


The first well
was formed by the tears
of those who could not find
the first well.


When dreamers meet,
there’s no need to wake up words.
They place their voice-instruments down—
and let their heart strings strum.

4 Comments to “beautiful things”

  1. Más poesía, por favor!

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