Iwalk alone the midnight streetSpins itself from under my feetMy eyes shutThese dreaming houses all snuff outThrough a whim of mineOver gables the moon’s celestial onion hangs highIMake houses shrinkAnd trees diminishBy going far; my look’s leashDangles the puppet-peopleWho, unaware how they dwindleLaugh, kiss, get drunkNor guess that if I choose to blink, they die IWhen in good humourGive grass its greenBlazon sky blue, and endow the sun with goldYet, in my wintriest moodsI hold absolute power To boycott color and forbid any flower to be IKnow you appearVivid at my sideDenying you sprang out of my headClaiming you feelLove fiery enough to prove flesh realThough it’s quite clearAll your beauty, all your wit, is a gift my dear.From meSylvia Plath اوهام...
ما را در سایت اوهام دنبال می کنید
برچسب : نویسنده : eternal-illusiona بازدید : 168 تاريخ : جمعه 13 بهمن 1396 ساعت: 4:23