through the window
I can see the days
repeating themselves
nicely
in the seasonal chaos of
climate change
Archives par mot-clé : prosepoem
#3033poetry
words will be put together
which mean nothing
but it will looks good
you reminded me of
the importance of wearing hat
and that will be good enough
for this strange day
somebody else’s voice*
I close my eyes to listen to my roots, the roof over my head must be an illusion that will not hold up, I will take somebody else’s voice to fill the guest card and then lay down, exhausted, in my dark stories.
after the rain
tacit agreement we could see in each other eyes: after the rain I'd be morose. The color of the sky on the other side of the horizon, the change of seasons, all that, all that, the transition of the weather, the chaos of the world, all of that would make me morose. if I had a house (3)
if I had a house, it would be made of wood and it would be pink, it would smell of childhood, it wouldn't be too big, it would creak a little, and when entering from the back door, it would smell of fire.