Poems by P. Emersen The silence of wood and half glasses
THE CANDLE The silence of wood The snow coloured ash melting Both are the same I see one, it sees me I ask the snow Its breath grins blackness and then calms I'm sorry, little one I'm sorry to be demeaning I'm sorry I couldn't give you more than a few bottles of water The silence of her sell "Would you like to buy a watch?" Polite, sincere, not desperate
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