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Poema 92: Flores...

Girasoles🌻


Mi vida es girasoles,
Me pena indecible,
Con sólo faroles,

Para así su sensible,
Hasta la vista también,
Muy mala tangible,

Y cubriendo ciudad caen,
Dónde buscar el corazón,
Los cuerpos se reducen,

Ellos son razón,
Haciendo hay curva brutales,
Las palabras ahora amó estación.

®Poesía y Historia En Línea. Todos los derechos reservados

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