Читать книгу Meri-Loquizing In An Illusionteque - Meri Nigro - Страница 8

Like a stone

taken from the mud

I regret

the dirty embrace

in the clean hand

with no love

How much awareness

in the unconscious gestures

grinding out weak regrets

kneading a reason

The last flower in the wind

doesn’t try to force

it looks forward the dying hope

under a dull sky