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sad poetry

substance de la lune
le soleil et vent et battement de mer
il était un jeune oysterman grand
tous apaisent le long du potomac
la agonie d'avoir trop de puissance
roses et or
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
doux et fort
le régal royal a été fait
musing, entre le coucher du soleil et l'obscurité
je vous attends
maintenant pour un combat vif et gai
se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé

 



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