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rosas y oro
el aire es como una mariposa
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocĂ­o
encima de los prados ricos con maĂ­z
déjeme moverse lentamente a través de la calle
en el amanecer, él dijo
era una diosa ere el mármol me encontró
hijas del tiempo
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
rompemos el cristal que vino sagrado
la oscuridad
ella puede ser que lo haya sabido en el resorte anterior

 



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