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mother poem

pela ponte rude
e pĂŁo do breaketh mais
quando, cheio do amor morno e ansioso
irmĂŁo, eu sou fogo
sob a folha dusky do laurel
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
simplicity
o corpo pode confinar
trançado e tecido
há qualquer um lá
do assoalho ao teto
a noite Ă© escura, e os ventos do inverno
para trás, gire para trás
olhe para trás com olhos longing e saiba que eu seguirei

 



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