* * *


Wildflower

You are my wildflower
growing on a windswept plain,
my bluest sky, my most sacred space.
The one whose name
I dare not speak
for fear that the angels might hear
and carry you away.

Though it will hurt
maybe more than I can bear,
I would rather stay silent,
not even whisper your name
to keep you safe in a place
where you will only ever be
a breath away.




Poetry by Nathalia
Read 194 times
Written on 2023-03-13 at 05:50

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D G Moody
A lovely poem Nathalia.
2023-03-14