A little flower blooms in the grey room
She always called me hers
My mother, an angel Charlie couldn't keep,
Explaining the process
Wiping the soil off her skin
They say we have the same hands
The same Whispers of nature
Her breathe still fills mine
Our names still sound the same
These things I hope never change
An Dandelion girl with gossamer eyes
Leaves lay in her lavender hair
Silver shadows sway
When she speaks
The dirt is still damp
So she presses
Her fingertips in between the rows
And With doctor like precision
My heart finds its rhythm
© retro_pain