A heart beating

Standard

A heart, beating slowly with the rhythm of the wind; a heart for my tired soul murmuring softly, still with the wind; A heart in a city, bathed in the smell of a pine tree, the leaves as thin as a caress. Time has stopped, but the moment is here very present and strong. It is now “the moment of the garden in the city”.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s