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.
it's not so much that you die
but rather that life leaves you
along with each season,
and the beloved friends
and the songs, forgotten
and the fading memories
*posted in June 2021, edited in June 2022
Atkersen reserve, May 2022, reserve Atkersen, mai 2022, Sylvie GE
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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