if I’m a garden
through which you could walk,
undo your feet, and look
with my eyes
stretch out long on the grass,
your head between the fire
and the calla lilies
in the warm vase
of my belly
lift up your face, and say nothing.
mostly it’s like the arch of sky above
where there’s space
for petals to call their song,
and the song to fly, free
like prayer flags,
a string of colour-stories
with the breath of four winds
in between
that loosens the leaves of my hair
and covers my face
with kisses,
without questioning,
without asking
Silver trophy winner
Adding your comment:
.... Neruda is my all time favourite poet 
Thanks so much!
