Wednesday, December 4, 2019
Monday, December 2, 2019
a fallen grace
My hands,
made of gold,
couldn't touch
the flower
that separated from the tree,
like a teardrop,
to grace the tired road;
made of gold,
couldn't touch
the flower
that separated from the tree,
like a teardrop,
to grace the tired road;
to pick it up,
my poor hands,
engaged,
couldn't stoop so low.
my poor hands,
engaged,
couldn't stoop so low.
the blossom was caressed
by the sun though
by the sun though
I wasn't able to
take my eyes off
this neglected piece;
a fallen grace,
a curious chef-d'oeuvre
built with utmost care
that Gustave would've taken
to build the Eiffel tower,
standing tall;
or Leonard could've
yearned for days,
to bring the smile
on la Joconde's face,
years ago.
take my eyes off
this neglected piece;
a fallen grace,
a curious chef-d'oeuvre
built with utmost care
that Gustave would've taken
to build the Eiffel tower,
standing tall;
or Leonard could've
yearned for days,
to bring the smile
on la Joconde's face,
years ago.
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