meeting of the feather and the bird

Once upon a time there was poetry, a distant song from a somewhat weakened heart.

This poetry had, like all young girls of her age, the smitten desire

To fall in love, on a spring evening, with a handsome ephebe.

Poetry dreamed of a man whose verses would go as high as a mountain

A man who for her would not hesitate to take up arms

Would defeat many white pages – the white page! Awful fear for all words

Words that make you laugh, words that make you cry

The words that make your heart vibrate with sweet passion or sad anger

According to the days

Oh, the words, when they’re written on a slice of paper

Are both friends and strangers

strangers and neighbors

To whom it would sometimes be better not to tell what you hope for tomorrow

February 21, 2016

[mc4wp_form id=”512″]