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thanksgiving poem

Ă  l'aube, il a dit
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
en matins nuage-gris
les ombres des bateaux
un regard est mais un rayon
maintenant tandis que mes lèvres vivent
basculé dans le berceau du profond
quand, plein de l'amour chaud et désireux
bruits qui tâchent de déchirer
les petites prières blanches
ĂŞtes vous vivant?
regarder lĂ -bas
le vieil ouest, le vieux temps
il y a trois ans d'aujourd'hui

 



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