And it was spring... # 77460
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And it was spring... Poem by Þuríður Guðmundsdóttir.
Roots
I walk through the city's gardens
and the flowers look at me
colorful alien eyes
and their fragrance is always new
In the distance sits a pale blue forget-me-not
on a small child's clothes
Because bluegrass, holtsaloe and stonecrop
were the flowers of my childhood
And their roots
will always be mine
Roots
I walk through the city's gardens
and the flowers look at me
colorful alien eyes
and their fragrance is always new
In the distance sits a pale blue forget-me-not
on a small child's clothes
Because bluegrass, holtsaloe and stonecrop
were the flowers of my childhood
And their roots
will always be mine