Like a field fallow,my heart is sleeping
With the seeds buried deep inside
Waiting for the rainfall to pop up their heads
And catch a glimpse of the sun’s majesty.
They have carved a niche for themselves
In the Mediterranean climate of my heart, kind and mild,
Bubbling soft and intoxicating hymns
To my ears grown mellow with life’s experiences.
Not all the seeds will grow into plants,
Some will be buried along with me.
Rare are the seeds, the seeds of love,
Often misunderstood in this loveless world,
Soft to touch and softer still to assimilate,
Eternity being too short to express about them.