on the esplanade of encounters
ties are woven very tightly,
ties of every color, every shape, all sorts,
and some will rust but nonetheless will last
and some will be upside down or take up too much space
all sorts of ties on the esplanade of encounters
the sun has coloured
my petals in a summer color
I was hoping to finish
between the pages of a notebook
in a bouquet on the fireplace
but time has made my petals fade away
the wind made them fall on the ground
that I will feed and
in the spring will come back
You would join your hands
to reach silence
your favorite the thick, the dense one,
which only happens at night
and goes out at dawn
to reveal your buried emotions
the superfluous words, the regrets in the folds
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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