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missing you poem

com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
algum queixou-se ao mestre
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
fala não bem
todo meu amor para meu doce
as sombras dos navios
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
doce e forte
a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
ao longo dos bancos

 



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