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i miss you poem

ella cojea con parar paso doloroso
camino abajo de las trayectorias del jardín
entre las montañas vagué
mi dolor, cuando ella está aquí con mí
oí el viento todo el dia
el solo puño apretado levantado y alista
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
ese año
mi amor verdadero de su almohadilla se levantó
espléndido y terrible su amor
amo robar un rato lejos
ruédeme abajo por el prado
era muchas y mucho hace un año

 



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