In the corners
Some watermelon seeds are bathing
In a whirlpool of their blood
And the curtains are haunting
The forever forgotten open window
The smell of rotting summer fruits
Embraces the room gently lingering
In the corners, where, chased away,
Your scent has taken a late refuge
From my oblivion,
From your absence,
From time itself.
Posted by in 17:41:28
you missed today Klara. I opened the computer just to read your todays entry. Im your fan, then please dont stop writing.
Don t worry I wont stop writing. just i skip some days now and then…. Thanks for being my fan. I have a new incentive to keep on writing this blog…