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friend poetry

por las mañanas nube-grises
al lado de un campo afectado
debajo de mi ventana en una calle de la ciudad
dígame no
todos tragan los años
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
evidenciado en la luz tenue en sus ojos
sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
brilla la edad pasada, el siguiente con esperanza se ve
ella debe ir detrás, ella dijo

 



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