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good bye poem

sedendosi nel suo attuatore che aspetta il vostro tè
il prato stava strisciando
sotto la luna della raccolta
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
addolorisi non per l'invisibile
mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano
mescolisi
faccialo rotare giù dal prato
sotto un albero di diffusione della castagna
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio
fate sentirsi
non posso ritenere sempre il suo greatness
osservi fuori sulle stelle, il mio amore

 



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