That’s how she would create each day, collecting moments that would not repeat themselves, only knowing how to live them, drinking with laughter, in the green forest and the white milk, the lukewarm air and the singing
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Archives de catégorie : prosepoem
Smile
In Tenby’s port, December 2018, canon, ©Sylvie Gé
Smile clockwise, like it is Tuesday, like it is greyer than the feelings camouflaged in your winter plumage.