Promenons-nous dans la nature
Dansons et chantons dans les plaines
Perdons-nous dans l’inconnu
Un voyage stimulant vers l’avenir
A Few Shots from the Broad
Here’s a little gallery of photos from my visit to The Broad Museum earlier this month, with a very good friend:
Les fleurs chantent
XII
Rolling plains,
Mind wide open,
Spring sky settled like an endless gray ocean.
The City Wakes
Street corner painted in color,
Apollo’s light kisses the clouds.
Each step full of history,
Beginnings, ends, drunk lovers,
Keep hold.
Every morning all is born anew,
The streets are alive for you.
Roses
Roses are red, like the inside of your eyelids.
Fragments of dreams and memories swimming behind them.
Seeds planted with high hopes, Start to wither in winter.
Then are re-imagined in the spring.
Red, like the first drop of passion spilt. Like struggle, madness, – all but sadness.
Sadness only arrives in hues of the deepest blue, gives birth to perils in your head.
What a simple gift, that roses are red.
Hayden Winston 
You must be logged in to post a comment.