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Tag: gardening
The sun hits me strong
With no compassion for my shy skin.
My winter shade resists and makes me
a late arrival from the moon.
In this childhood of summer,
My melanin grows.
We speak different languages,
Or so they say,
In this small world.
We understand like a mum the child
When the intention is with us,
Not our passports
The plan was accurate
And I followed it with my finger out.
My flowers were born at each deadline
Until one rebelled.
The tiny detail was hiding,
The personality changed
And my plan became a treasure hunt.
The blue light of the screen
Gives me results and ageing.
Can I work and not hurt myself?
Can I do science and stay young?
Can I connect and not irradiate my cells?
Conscious and curious,
I sit at my desk.
