Dedicated to snatches of song that can sum up your state of mind at that moment.
To those song-
writers and poets who string words together that anyone can own.
To my own pen, that can create pieces of song, though rare...
Tuesday, February 04, 2014
Carrefour
O You,
Who came upon me once
Stretched under apple-trees just after bathing,
Why did you not strangle me before speaking
Rather than fill me with the wild white honey of your words
And then leave me to the mercy
Of the forest bees.
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