l***y
发帖数: 791 | 1 The Thin man strolls
on his long femurs.
I’m writing this down
all in black ink, his color.
A sword is sheathed
in the outdated overcoat
hung across his forearm.
The old guy is so much in peace now,
contentment unpacked by the hour.
The city, in heat at noon time,
this stranger of a summer
has finally spawned colors.
A girl swaggeres by
in orchid blooms and rice paper,
and his eyes scamper
to her sandaled brown feet.
This is the perfect weather
for “All Apologies”.
The ancient’s bones slowly
war |
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