the interpreter

he understands
the language of flowers
patiently interprets
the sways and bows and nods
of stems of roses and bougainvillea bushes

he feels
rushing waves in her center
by sitting so very still
listening to her breaths
knows exactly what she needs

he sees
the urge rising from a core
boiling beneath the surface
catches her glance filled with messages
writes a long note that says,

these words were made to decorate your pages
take them and make them yours


© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved


2 thoughts on “the interpreter”

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