lauantai 24. toukokuuta 2014

Clouds yards

Clouds yards runaway, 
white sheep in the wind. 
In the summer they can be calculated 
lying on his back on the grass. 
A feel for how ants 
torture me, they 
seems to be a sharp, 
burn the teeth. 

I write my thoughts, 
a poem or two. 
The world rests in the lap of the heat, 
and there is no silence 
choked in my ear not 
this more complete. 

We have two personalities 
a different perspective, I, 
and writable woman. 
Photographer maybe the third, 
Finnish raccoon. 

Ei kommentteja:

Lähetä kommentti