Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Flavia Cosma

Suppliant hands
Streched out for
Plates made of snow,
Wish for Peace, for Light,
For Mercy from above.
They won't be given,
These precious gifts;
Only a dull, ephemeral illusion,
Only the moon's aura,
[an untouchable globe
And a tear
Welling up many others.

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