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life poem

così perso
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
tre anni fa oggi
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
nei numeri mournful
quando ho esaminato i vostri occhi
l'aria è come una farfalla
vecchio vino da bere
ho lanciato il mondo
guardi indietro con gli occhi longing e sappia che seguirò
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
faccialo rotare giù dal prato
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre

 



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