terça-feira, 20 de abril de 2010

nine o'clock in the morning
two coffees have gone
and all hope that could remain
was buried by
an unrestful with sad white
i'm not complaining, you see
- there still are green leaves
to be seen in the garden -
it is just
love is not a reason
flies with seagulls in
wintry times
towards your eyes
but what happens
when arms are not
there to receive mine?
you take one more
to go.