My Life In Word

Breedlove

Breedlove walks with pockets full
of rose-red seeds and cyclamen.
He plants them where the sidewalks crack,
then hums until the bees come back.

He sprinkles kindness by the gate,
leaves laughter where the lonely wait.
His hands smell sweet with garden rain,
with mint, warm soil, and sugarcane.

He tucks soft wishes under trees
and sends them sailing on the breeze.
By morning, every fence has grown
a vine that whispers, You’re not alone.

He paints the air with berry light,
hangs heart-shaped lanterns in the night.
Where anger once had scorched the ground,
pink blossoms rise without a sound.

And everywhere that Breedlove goes,
the whole world opens like a rose.

Simona A. Brinson

Photo by Igor Sporynin on Unsplash

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