A breeze blows in carrying a seed on it's wing,
No one knew, no one saw a thing.
Not before its growth is strong and growing tall,
Causing one's path to falter and stride to stall.
Creeping vines of Ivy cover, smoke-screen and smother,
the true strength and power of our dear earth mother.
Her caresses exceed blooms, brambles and branches,
kissing the soul of he whom embraces her advances.
The moist morning mist falls gently on the skin
touching the depths of a sixth sense stirred within
droplets dancing in the air, hovering above the lakes
ever mindful of her presence and the senses she awakes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem