Friday, January 9, 2009

Morning

Morning

I was waking and heard a silver flute

when dawn was spreading its wings on the scenery.

I was waking and leaving my dream

where faeries danced in the chamomile.


When the sky became crystalline

and the curtain fondled the window sill,

my body was caressed by this morning breeze.

And through the window a martin flew into my room...

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