Madres Poem by Julio 2 Amarante
Madres
Algo horrible antes de sus ojos infinitos
Que desconsiderar e odear,
Ao dicho jo que me recuardaria las nostálgicas canciones en el viento.
Transmutadas en un puerto de sueño acorralado.
Canciones de almas caladas.
De madres muertas enterradas.
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: confessional
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
no story, raw facts
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5/6/2024 10:34:26 AM # 1.0.0.1119
