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friend poem

tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
se ele
as canções velhas
passagem através das paredes huddled e feias
eu quero saber às vezes se for realmente verdadeiro
os corredores de mármore resounding longos
pela ponte rude
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
uma pena do aço
em seu vôo
não seja falso
de nossos lugares escondidos
o amor foi cantado mil maneiras

 



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