Читать книгу Door in the Mountain - Jean Valentine - Страница 90

Déjà-vu

No, my father here, as You said,

When I asked him for bread

Didn't refuse me; but the bread was green;

And now You!

Now I'm dry and cold,

Chattering in the corner of the greenhouse,

Now You let me know it was always You,

That Déjà-vu

Tilt of the sunlight on the floor,

That silence at the door!

I'd laugh, but I never, never loved You,

And here I am dead,

My Midas teeth on edge, green

Jade on jade.