southmiami Poetry (1)

What happens to the well of love when it starts drying?

Can it be refilled with fresh water?

Or does it flow deep inside the earth unreachable?

The sunsets and sunrises loses beauty on the beholder's eyes

what a despair that cannot flow like the river's streams

and end up at the ocean's depths

I'm like a planted seed that was not able to germinate

but the rain will float me away to the sea

like a long journey and who knows picked up

again sometime, somewhere.

Love it's self is like a beautiful graciola

that blossoms to it's fullest and then fades away.