Peter Moon by CLEIN, etc

You shall walk barefoot
Barely touching the moist grass
On mornings like this;
Forever summer, but early June.
Forever fall, but late September.
Eyes will be the big dark eyes of your dark eyed mother,
Always raddled, always unaware, always rooting for something that can not
And should not
Be found.
Hair, dancing with the mild wind
That will gently blow from the East upon your life,
Like a spell you can not
And should not
Estranged, you will ask questions like –
Who painted the bird blue
And why do lambs smell like sunrise milk.
Why do leaves camouflage after rain
And who made the moon cry like a sonata?
How do lucky coins make babies in the jar
And, eventually, why your eye lids tend to close when you smell the perfume of your mother?
Each time she puts her hair up in a bun.
(It’s love that makes your eyelids close, darling)
Your name will be Peter Moon
And you will be born out of writing
But not now and not here. (You are myself)

“Big words don’t cry”, writes Medina Pop, the author behind Clein. etc, ( a fresh Instagram poetry page which seizes women, their inner worlds, and their inner art. Medina’s work explores ideas of solitude, secret chambers of the feminine heart, love and beauty, and draws its inspiration from Charles Bukowski and Virginia Woolf. 

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