Whispers
Elinor, that would be your name
In strange, foreign latitudes
we swim in oceans
calm, pacific
as they watch us, talking about you and me
they can see
our happiness
We sit and dry
on fields of grass
as we visualize the fauna
underneath us, all around us
tiny creatures in the soil
nurturing
And so at night
I lift you up
show your face to the stars
and ask the Moon to baptize you
with her gentle gray dust
Such a Proud father I am of you
my unborn daughter
Poetry by Ivan R
Read 808 times
Written on 2015-07-10 at 18:07
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