grip of the sun

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the rustling of your thought
immortalized on the canvas of my soul,
it's like a docile whisper...
⋆⋆⋆
and I don't hide you... —
your daily routines have deep-rooted
on my joy's lips, dementedly
⋆⋆⋆
and I love you…
[but how much I love you...?], you see,
this poem, I didn't write it yet
⋆⋆⋆
it nested in your chest... and beats...
[I don't know exactly in which wing], but
its vibe, it feels in the grip of the sun


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