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fall poem

il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
je remplis cette tasse
quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
j'ai vu les nuages parmi les collines
seule
démontré dans la lueur vacillante dans vos yeux
avec la joie et la merveille
elle boite avec stopper le pas douloureux
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
élever, comme vent a soufflé

 



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