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love poem

dice de buenas viejas épocas
estoy parado en el tiempo gris frío
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
algún se quejó al amo
al revés, dé vuelta al revés
era no para ese olor singular
con alegría y maravilla
poco parque que paso a través
qué yo le deben
el dulce con el fern y se levantó
camino abajo de las trayectorias del jardín
o justo y stately criada, que ojos
vi la primera pera

 



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