The warm kiss of the not yet ripe sun,
dances and fights with the wind
for the royalties over my skin.
The glittering light
blends with the sky
over my tight.
I am a daughter
with a millennia gone
in arguments over who's lost and who's won.
When every solder has failed
to taste this acid vail
what's the point of standing victorious
over a grave?
with flowers from a valley, no man has ever claimed.
Joana
Written on one of those afternoons you feel 15 even thought you're about to turn 20, May 2023
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