The breeze hardly made
my arms cold
on that day
but in the middle of the slope
to catch my breath
took a snapshot of
small yellow flowers
(they hurt the mouths of sheep)
that clung to the sandy cliff
above the water
And on the way home
stopping in front of the bay,
which goes as far as forever
as far as the end of the world
I could see wild swans
but only from afar
and some white birds in a row
sometimes time is long
but life is short
sometimes time is long
so better go home
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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