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mom poem

deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
travails da terra
se eu for muito certo
rosas e ouro
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
alguns dias mais ventosos
mas alas, sonhos justos
para prestar atenção o dia inteiro à onda azul ondular e quebrar
como uma vela branca
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
doubtless eu recordo ainda
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol

 



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