when roses sleep #poetry

open the window

let me feel

the wind

which blew

when I was born

open you palms

and let me eat

the fruits

of the soil

which fed me first

open your heart

and let me breath

into

the poetry

of the sunsets

when roses

sleep

and church bells toll

into the land

where I was born.

*

Sympathize! 

 

15 thoughts on “when roses sleep #poetry

  1. Why do tears in my eyes?

    And they come back

    On the path which was throwing open
    in the dusk –
    red leaves
    amongst some trees of walnuts
    a traveler is coming.
    He is reaching the heart with a quiet step
    resembling a babble
    of a water under a root
    or an open embrace,
    arms of air and of a quiet dream.
    A faraway evening bell.

    That’s an hour which in the homes
    as the children they fall asleep
    by their father after a plough
    and the travelers come back
    with a path.

     
    1. What a beautiful poem, dear B! Really beautiful. Thank you for sharing. Sometimes people cry because they long for something. “a traveler is coming.
      He is reaching the heart with a quiet step” ; “That’s an hour which in the homes
      as the children they fall asleep”

       
      1. Thank you dear G. Sometimes a beautiful poem calls another.
        when roses
        sleep
        and church bells toll

        into the lands…

        Pleasure is all mine!

         

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