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short poem

quando eu retornei no por do sol
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
disse
não gire sua cabeça
aflija-se não para o invisível
com alegria e maravilha
a neve sussurra sobre mim
a terra mantem algum ir da vibração
em e sobre
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
filhas do tempo
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
para trás, gire para trás
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays

 



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