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mother daughter poem

ne soyez pas faux
qui est le coureur dans les cieux
chère épouse
qui appellera le vent
à partir des prés riches avec du maïs
musing, entre le coucher du soleil et l'obscurité
leurs beaux cheveux
bien que je sois peu en tant que toutes les petites choses
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
ville qui n'est pas une ville
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
vers l'arrière, tournez vers l'arrière

 



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