Of course, there would be traces
of passers
lost on the dunes,
one we cannot always be with on their own
but they would have come, and would
have gone and now I would be alone
with the sky and promises
of thunderstorms
in the cold sand of May.
Un blog experimental voue a la poesie du quotidien sous toutes ses formes/An experimental blog devoted to poetry in all its forms
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Fascinating musing
Thank you Derrick🙂