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sister poem

mulher boa
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
com os olhos meek, marrons
prazeres mid e palácios embora nós podemos vaguear
uma vida na onda do oceano
pensamentos através de minha cabeça
e assim vai
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
um pĂŞssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
com o por do sol
deixe-nos piedade aqueles de que seja melhor fora do que nĂłs sĂŁo
as canções velhas

 



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