Spring

Blooming trees like blushing brides
Marrying the wind,
Veiled in nuptial marches,

Along the dusty alleys
Of our memories alone,
Raised in perfumed columns
Of spring...

We sit by the blue river banks
Like the hands of a lost clock,
Still beating,
Still marching in the same direction,
Still rising in columns of silk...
My words become flowers,
Stretching like a floating bridge
In the fragrant air,
Your silence is the rooted tree
Thirsty for a far hemisphere,
Where eternity blooms
Like a blushing bride,
Gently walking in perpetual spring,
Softly breathing a new air.



Copyright © 2012  Cristina Miller