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christmas poetry

tenemos ninguna vergüenza?
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
amo mi hora del viento y de la luz
el sentarse en su eje de balancín que espera su té
mire detrás con los ojos longing y sepa que seguiré
el amanecer era verde
amo robar un rato lejos
de piso al techo
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
renueve la visión del placer
pero no puedo ahora leerle
cuando era adaptó Londres

 



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