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pumpkin poem

eu ouvi-os na noite
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
ruídos que strive rasgar
melancolia, azul era
renove a visão do prazer
traga-me a canção macia
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
eu estive pelo casement aberto
felicidade
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
em números mournful
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
esplêndido e terrível seu amor

 



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