I’m a Kansas girl,
my heart a sunflower
rooted in humble prairie soil,
forever following the sun.
In Tuscany the word is bramasole,
something that yearns for the sun,
like Sangiovese grapes, exotic
and vicarious on the tongue.
One taste, and I soar
sunward.
NaPoWriMo 2016 Day 8 – Write a poem about a flower. I don’t remember where or when I first came across the word bramasole, but it captures me to a T. Peace to your ♥!
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