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sorry poem

la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
filles de temps
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
beau
j'ai vu que vous hunched et tremblant sur les pierres
quand le vent fonctionne contre nous dans l'obscurité
souffleur de verre de temps
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci à moi
bien que repine d'amour, et frottement de raison
complètement des larmes
peut-être
quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
il était un jeune oysterman grand
serene d'après-midi et lumineux verts

 



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