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child poem

ceux sur le supérieur indiquent qu'elles vous connaissent, la terre -- elles sont des menteurs
foncé-eyed
là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison
sous la feuille sombre de laurier
les petites prières blanches
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon
j'ai moulé le monde
je vais ma manière complacently
il est venu me prendre par la main
dans ma main je me tiens
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal

 



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