Poezie
the cross
1 min lectură·
Mediu
the mountain heals slowly.
i am so tired that
memories
crumble under the fangs of the crest wind,
my soul,
liquefied by your passing
coagulates sadly
in the veins of the fir.
fingers smell of resin.
upon my new trunk, the fog
carves the shape of your hips.
i keep climbing.
my cross won’t let itself be carried.
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Despre aceasta lucrare
- Autor
- Horia Mocanu
- Tip
- Poezie
- Cuvinte
- 58
- Citire
- 1 min
- Versuri
- 13
- Actualizat
Cum sa citezi
Horia Mocanu. “the cross.” Atelier, Poezie.ro, https://poezie.ro/atelier/horia-mocanu/poezie/13906835/the-crossComentarii (1)
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