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sad love poem

cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
je vous attends
hors de moi indigne et inconnu
les ombres des bateaux
elle boite avec stopper le pas douloureux
je les ai offerts tout l'adieu
les vieilles chansons
il y a trois manières dont les hommes prennent
doux comme lit dans la terre
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
je me suis tenu
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
ce que je souhaite remarquer
regarder là-bas

 



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