perfect blue

hot breeze in pine tree
by your grave
a handful of freesias wilt
on a lump of earth

my cigarette wet with pain
while fierce first spring sun
peels away the skin from my skull
when the axis spins:

high above in the perfect blue
the three eagles you loved
cry Freedom
and pierce my mind with joy

I’m ready for nothing yet


Unknown disse…
Hang in there, amigo. Um forte abraco, Raquel

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