You Make Flowers Bloom

Your eyes speak the language of
leaves as they sway along 
the murmuring breeze,
or of fledglings as they stretch 
their wings and glide over 
miles and miles of 
dancing rainbow fields

When your orbs
(pulsating with hopes and dreams, so vibrant 
as to make flowers bloom like in spring)
found their way to me,
Rain poured and folded me; 
I embraced my soul,
and stepped up to sing an old song

	Oh, how could I’ve forgotten those self-shaping tales? 
	How could I’ve walked, not at my pace, 
        but ran with half a mind to chase?

The downpour stopped as you said your 
comfort in silence, listening 
to my ill-composed dirges.

And for that, child, thank you.
Now, I feel I can start anew
and maybe make flowers bloom in concrete, too.