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mom poem

tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
mais alas, rêves justes
chère épouse
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
le maître des destins humains suis moi
je dois dire bonne nuit
dans les halls du sommeil vous avez erré près
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal
je me demande parfois s'il est vraiment vrai
c'était l'automne de l'année
dites-moi pas
désolé et seul
je verrai une étoile ce soir

 



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