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memorial poem

fleurs des bébés
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
pharaoh, roi de la terre de l'Egypte
laissez-moi être triste
quelques jours plus venteux
je les ai offerts tout l'adieu
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril
un orage monte sur la marée
vous a fait voient jamais un alligator
leurs beaux cheveux
les voûtes du pont rouge
le soleil et vent et battement de mer
du plancher au plafond


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