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mom poem

desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
desolado e solitário
a lua levantando-se escondeu as estrelas
era uma oysterman novo alto
ainda treze anos
deixe um sustento da alegria vocĂŞ
trançado e tecido
passagem através das paredes huddled e feias
do sol nem das estrelas
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
eu despise meus amigos mais do que vocĂŞ
para vestir o pensamento impetuoso
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus

 



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