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mom poem

su e giů va
l'aria č piena l'alba del e la molla
diami la fame
il dolce con il fern ed č aumentato
chi chiamerŕ il vento
mentre mi sono levato in piedi ascoltare, discreetly dumb
li prevedo
una penna di acciaio
la festivitŕ reale č stata fatta
potremmo ma sapere
dicami
amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
non appenda corona
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi

 



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