let my will melt in the coldness of August, shake off the dust of regret when you open the window, looking at you through the eyes of the rain, a little sad, like tears on the window.
like tears on the window
Archives du mot-clé seasons
picnic*
in the slowness of
a season, which one ?
the answer was uncertain but
it was raining,
I am certain of
it, in the shell of the sea urchin
abandoned on the wet rocks
first posted in July 2017
layers
Like layers of forgotten memories, inconveniences pushed back to tea time, found again after having missed all the trains, from the first to the last (regrets are useless)
shaking hand
there is the trembling hand reassuring that everything is fine, but I saw what was in them, your eyes, I mean
haiku
on Sunday morning
a cold autumn silence and
a feeling of peace
