I used to ache for white beauty,
veined marble, translucent quartz.
Pale like David, fair like the Pieta.
Here I am, roots and earth.
Because flowers do not flourish in stone.
I used to ache for white beauty,
veined marble, translucent quartz.
Pale like David, fair like the Pieta.
Here I am, roots and earth.
Because flowers do not flourish in stone.