Lament of the Living
I would miss summer afternoons,
the green of mulberry leaves superimposed on the blue of sky
if I were dead.
I mean, by then I wouldn’t really, but
for now I fret about it.
I would miss summer afternoons,
the green of mulberry leaves superimposed on the blue of sky
if I were dead.
I mean, by then I wouldn’t really, but
for now I fret about it.