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kid poem

sotto la luna della raccolta
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
chi ama la pioggia
mi chiedono dove sono stato
i nostri momenti piacevoli volano
come mi trovo coperto dentro, selezionato dentro
non si addolori che finito
uomo freddo severo
sono il vento che esita
non posso ora dirvi
ci situiamo
deve andare indietro, ha detto
possono comunicare di amore in un cottage
hanno avuti lui e la i ma venuto a contatto di

 



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