quinta-feira, 3 de setembro de 2026

Quaint languid nightmare

 Windmill lodge by the lake
Maternalness long grass
Humid breeze
caravans under windmills

What part of my life demands this?
The long trip home that never comes
The reeds bump and whistle flute like
The water levels low

A vehicle arrives stones crunch 
Back from the capital
I ask will you accompany me
You say you'll stay at the lodge

Watch the geese
The neighbors children
Irrelevant amenities
A quick road to obscurity

Each thread of the heart
Hardening into hollow chambers
rubbed by the breeze
playing like sad flutes

Take my hand 
Wake from this bad dream
Because I can hear you wail in your sleep
All the way across the ocean


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