They were not words,
were flowers
which involved the heart
drawn with love
that marked
through their hands,
in all the gardens
which he cultivated during his lifetime.
He made poetry in his silence,
cared abou life
of who passed there
and in their anonymity,
talked about love
without saying anything.
by/erotildes vittoria/
Translated on September 12, 2017
All right reserved.
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