Thursday, October 12, 2006

ephemeral

Ephemeral

She sat on my steps, blown here by good fortune
and morning breeze;
gave her a bath of foamy essence made
of collected dreams,
my home became a palace.
She stayed with me for weeks, but
When I opened the window wide, she flew away
on silky wings.
She will soon sit on another old man’s step, if he
hasn’t forgotten how to dream, be grateful and
don’t ask her to stay when she
wants to leave.

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