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poem for dad

sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
esteja em mim como os modos eternal
eighty anos passaram, e mais
através do peito aching da terra larga
o ar é como uma borboleta
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
eu quero saber às vezes se for realmente verdadeiro
bonito
eu penso d esplêndido justo
em números mournful
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
sobre o rio beckon a mim
eu tenho que dizer good-night

 



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