Tree of Words


9. Mysteric West

The sunset crumbles

in the mysteric West

of your scent,

chaps quartz

in suffocating fragrance

of geological flower.

Flocks call

oasis of arabic sand

in gulfs of caresses,

where wolves breath

the cry of eagles,

your voice.

The moon

bleeds the lily,

lays the moonfish

in your sands.

And your feet

whisper pink cranes.


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