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friendship poetry

mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
el amo de destinos humanos es yo
soy el viento que duda
cuando volví en la puesta del sol
ese compañero extraño vino en mezclar pies
hay un país por completo del vino
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
estoy parado en el tiempo gris frío
dondeyo encuéntrele
ella debe ir detrás, ella dijo
nobleza de la muerte otra vez

 



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  • Wide new border will end families' touching - San Francisco Gate
 

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