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child poetry

sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
sombras voadas que varrem perto
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
talvez
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
vontade você glimmer no mar?
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
pela costa, pelo mar
como selvagem, como bruxa-como estranho que a vida deve ser
muito bem, você liberais

 



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