I don´t how I was born,
don´t know where…
Just rised up from the fallen leaves,
and walked away, there…

The autumn wind blow
through my reddish blond hair
..and I don´t care…
…still walking away…

My nudity is covered by dying butterflies.
Everybody love my irresistible voice.
Sitting on my favourite bear,
going through the nature – free from any human voice.

Here comes the end of my being…
I feel this is my last day,
flakes of snow are killing me.
I am the son of Autumn fay.

Autor:   Kategória: Poézia     ::     :: 233 views