To Kahlil Gibran's Flower
I am a kind of word spoken by the
voice of nature
I am the element flying gracefully
on a green pasture
I am a silent child in Summer and
the brave child that Winter has
believed
I crown the opening of the golden
Spring and a gentle heart that
Autumn conceived
I caress the majestic body of the
flower as she announce the coming
of the light
At nocturnal melodies, I dance with
the birds on their lonely flight
The plains are full of the vibrant
grace by those lovely flowers
As I embrace the early morning
lovers
I cradle the spirit of the one who
drinks wine
As he promenades with the
swaying leaves of the vine
I am a dulcet entity whispered by a
faint death
I am the little joy sang by a
saddened health
I am the air breathed by a living
man
and a mysterious knight to a
crying little one
When the flower look high to never
see her shadow
I escape through a broken, dusty
window
To uplift her when she will feel me
blow
Copyright © Nadine Fababier | Year Posted 2013
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