The morning dawns in thin shroud
of clouds, pale spreading shimmer
of golden hue where the Sun
is ascending, and in the distance
gunshots where the life
of some creature is the target
of men in vests carrying out
their autumn ritual of slaughter,
and what I need, beyond your embrace,
is hot coffee and some better
music for this season of decay,
uplifting the mind with melodies
to wistful embrace of what is yet to wither
- as, alas, I can't uplift your skirt
and let our flesh find their harmony
and play out their shared song -
before I can write better verse.
But, it will be a poor substitute for you!
12.09.2026
Ei kommentteja:
Lähetä kommentti