Sunflowers (poem)

This craft.
It delights me.
It demands the worst to create.
Covers and pencils,
sunsets that break.
Dirty storms,
their announcements,
scattered by the wind.
I describe from the window.
The clouds are elusive.
You take off with the sunflowers.
They are flowers from another latitude.
Wild feasts.
They force me.
I write against time.
Beasts prowling the house.
Poisonous wings.
Storm and skin,
crushed stones
acacia branches.
I write in the dark,
I rebuild dandelions.
I count the fragments,
I dissolve them,
I wait,
the noises subside.
I write on your hair,
tenderness.
The minutes traveled,
trimming flowers,
joining the bouquet
before leaving.

Fuente

@wakeupkitty.pal y @aneukpineung78