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short funny poem

mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
porqué lo haga
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
escrito en una noche del vuelo
quién es el corredor en los cielos
cómoyo ayude a la derecha al mundo que va mal
ochenta años han pasado, y más
hice un voto una vez, uno solamente

 



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