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fall poem

três anos há hoje
o merriment infinito, foolish das estrelas
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
uma tempestade está montando na maré
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
ruídos que strive rasgar
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
trançado e tecido
era não para esse cheiro singular
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
têm você ouvido
flores dos bebês
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore

 



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