20 May 2020 | 00:00
Their body,
the most beautiful art.
Named after flowers,
those delicate creature,
showered with love,
warmed up by light,
bounded by zephyr.
Some live in the garden,
some live in the mud.
Nonetheless,
they all bloom.
Creating majestic fragrance,
revealing their own tint.
Named after flowers,
once plucked by a wrong hand,
detached and ignored,
wilted.
Their heart,
a deep ocean of secrets,
guarded by thousand blades,
to avoid any rupture.
Named after flowers,
women.
