Buffo Chapel at Villa Leonor 
At the end of the road home. Among the mountains
expected: the crypt
love and Leonor
- with its unfinished dream-
and stream - Heraclitus that runs between the stones and a poem
writing on the wall that says
you who spend the source
wet your hands and let a few drops
dissolves like tears on the grass
I read these words-often-
not know that I appointed.
0 comments:
Post a Comment