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sad poetry

son visage est juste et lisse et bon
ont eu lui et I mais réuni
affligez-vous pas pour l'invisible
souffleur de verre de temps
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
nous qui se sont tenus
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
pensées par ma tête
je suis une femme
allé avant nous
levé des morts
j'ai dit, j'ai fermé mon coeur
à ce qui une femme la comparera aimée

 



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