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daughter poem

flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
última meia-noite
os poetas dizem
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
eu moldei o mundo
eu ganhei a raça
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
uma vida na onda do oceano
têm você andar visto através da vila
cão do gingham e o gato do calico
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz

 



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