
I waited for the wind to sail to sail me to the north,
I waited for the sails to dry and waited for a month,
a month when skies are yellow
and the moon rises above,
the clouds that shaped like cellos
played a symphony of love…
The palm trees moving to the song
that lingers in the wind,
the ancient stone,
the long lost home,
is always in my dreams.
Where the wind goes I don’t care
because I know I will be there…
C.2022, Francisco Bravo Cabrera, 06 APR 2022, Miami Beach, FL (USA)
Beautiful, Francisco. Every sailor is an artist or poet.
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
Without a doubt. Thank you Espie!
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
Love the poem. Miami must be agreeing with you
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
The heat is beginning to wear me out a bit 😊
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
Florida’s heat and humidity are two reasons that I don’t want to live there except maybe in January and February.
Me gustaLe gusta a 2 personas
Yes! August and September are the worst! The traffic is also unbearable!
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
and that’s a good place to be!
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
For sure!
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
Beautifully expressed, my friend! Love the perspective offered and felt connected to its transient nature.
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
Thank you so much Brad!
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
So beautiful, Francisco!
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
Thank you so much Tiffany!
Me gustaMe gusta