I stole a book that told me
about the other stolen books
but they had lost their way...
I know a few still hang in trees
some even wait by the seaside
for clouds to bring a rain of words
& the wind to caress the last leaves
they were tired of holding on to
& perhaps the morning says
I am tired of this life of crime
the birds were hard awake
where I lost my youth.
& the wind to caress the last leaves
they were tired of holding on to
& perhaps the morning says
I am tired of this life of crime
the birds were hard awake
where I lost my youth.
very nice! the last line is very powerful and left me thinking about what would trully be losing one's own youth.... at what particular moment, what provoked this kind of "awareness", what it means and entails etc ...
ReplyDeleteThank you, dear Béatrice.
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