On Sunday

It’s a fresh rainy evening
I climb up to the nacreous clouds
you stay lean on your elbow you are famous
you write in your notebook:
‘nothing could be simpler that this water notepaper
it’ll be sun tomorrow her words will disappear’
I climb up to the stones I’m soaking wet I tremble
stones tremble you tremble
wolves of December look
at us with sad-eye
I arrived home I closed the all windows
I opened the written session
till on next world I have an open-house
for those who want to read
‘The Diary of The One Single Sunday’
by Ela Roseni
P.S. A resounding Sunday
(read here in Romanian)

The soul of waters says me something… I cannot understand it yet…

One thought on “On Sunday

  1. Pingback: Duminica | blog cu taxa inversa

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