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baby shower poem

non appenda corona
esistere dello swan
fiori dei bambini
il fratello, sono fuoco
tempesta
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
l'alba era verde mela
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
che probabilità spiteful ruba i unawares
pensieri tramite la mia testa
qui si trova una signora la più bella
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
siete chiari
burly, humble-ape fare un pisolino

 



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