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christmas poem

uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
glass-blower do tempo
vontade você glimmer no mar?
receoso não mais, eu digo
para a verdade, para o amor
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
dê-me
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado

 



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