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prose poetry

se levantó y el ámbar era la puesta del sol en el río
cuando las horas del día se numeran
raza alto-llevada
usted dice que usted me ama
y con el pájaro del tarareo
allí por la ventana en la vieja casa
mi amor verdadero de su almohadilla se levantó
mi dolor, cuando ella está aquí con mí
la luz retirada
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
cuando el velo de los ojos se levanta
usted es mi compañero
algunos días más ventosos
si era muy seguro

 



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