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happy birthday poem

la neve bisbiglia circa me
che probabilità spiteful ruba i unawares
un'ombra grigia sottile sul bordo di pensiero
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
sono fevered
come mi trovo coperto dentro, selezionato dentro
il mio dispiacere, quando è qui con me
fiori dei bambini
amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
il più triste dell'anno
ho fatto una volta soltanto un voto, uno
tutti si acquietano lungo il potomac

 



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