first autumn
flutters to the ground
in amber sighs
(my heart slips
from my hand)
a cypress stabs a hole
in pregnant clouds,
heaven breaks
in thousand shards bliss
the day hangs,
lucid and wet,
on an old washing line
(my soul brims
on my lips)
damp rises
from my roots,
my eyes soak completely
I will drown of this love
like the day
in its wet destiny






















No problem, my friend!! Thanks for the smiles!!


♥ 











Nicolette your imagination of words is astounding, absolutely brilliant!
Wet...


33 old applause
