Quality of the Flower

The flower doesn’t hide it’s face, it reflects the sun.

It throes you in place.

It talks in a language that you understand, but in a language that words cannot be spoken for it has not got any.

Its beauty is in its irregular forms, its wrinkles, wrinkles of laughter.

 

PC273862PC273861PC273858

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s