Poema

lizor_08

New Member
29 Mayo 2008
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At middle, under warm shade,
a train grows to an eye.
Each bag made and laid,
"2:14 just in time",
tick fifteen to trade.

Walking beauty: don't look back,
the hug cannot hear the action.
A fog comes upon desires back,
like light of the suns atraction,
lean here with me and the tracks.