The Hills of You

Climbing up the hills of your hips with my breath, pretending to sail deep into your heart.
So far away it is, so hidden from my sight.

Going back and forth from your neck, to your back. Pretending I find it in every pulsation of your arms. So fast it goes away so far away I am.

Looking through the glass, deep into your eyes. Pools of emotions doesn't wants to come out. Bubbling from the depth of you, flowing with the force of giants I can feel your heart.
So far away I am. I will never find it is hidden from my sight.

The only hope I have, is to crop with the help of time, three flowers to take care.
And allow them to grow in the hills of your hips, your mouth and your lips.
Hidden from the harsh weather and with enough light to bloom.

And make them company with a couple of birds singing from the waves of your hair,
and some water that I will personally put in your mouth for all of them to grow and live.

They might die before the spring.
But If they do, I just hope to fertilize your heart with their remains,
and the water will mix them and make swirl deep into your heart.
So at least I won't be so far away as I am now from your heart.


Andrés