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happy birthday poem

com os olhos meek, marrons
desolado e solitário
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
em e sobre
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
esplĂŞndido e terrĂ­vel seu amor
alguns dias mais ventosos
gloom
homem frio stern
assim perdido
e enquanto nĂłs andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
eu sou o vento que wavers
não há nenhum rebanho, porém prestado atenção e tendido

 



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