Proving a circle

That can not be a hour that vanished into kisses 

watching the moths snuggle around a fake moon

curtains scratched by cats and stars

a glimmer in crinkly hair 

on waves and winds

as I get lost in the sadness of the song

the blues lament 

morning is floating between gold light streams

I have devotion for things that fly 

I feel like Picasso proving that he can still draw a circle

I look to find my reading glasses. 

 

 

◄ The world`s most beautiful city

Outside a gallery ►

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