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family poem

o ar é como uma borboleta
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
carrinho aqui por meu lado
mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
eu estou morrendo
a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
escuro-eyed
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
esta é a canção da juventude
nós não éramos muitos

 



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