If I Were a Wheat Field

When I was a child
I wanted to grow among people
with my words swaying forever
within the ripe wheat breeze.

Dreams gathered like dew
inside cold and clean pitchers
while singing fountains
were stemming from my heart,
barefooted on city streets.
The hours lost
in an abacus without beads
were melting night into day
and day into gray snowfall.

Tears are burning dry
over the vines with sour grapes.
And how I crave
to break this light’s wheat ears
in two, in three…
in pieces I can’t count.


Categories: My Poems in 2010 | Tags: , , , , | 6 Comments

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6 thoughts on “If I Were a Wheat Field

  1. Beautiful, as always, Cristina. Fantastic imagery.

  2. i love this, especially the flow of the lines… makes the ending all the more affecting.


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