Poezja

Why did I go
for you at the end of road?
Copper weeps.

Like air hugging
you, smelling your wet
scented hairs.

Poverty was a gift
of god. You were very
rich. Strange!

What you will
wear at the death of moon?
sun was red.

Signing on the
skin of dying butterfly,
what you wanted to say?

Put off the lamp.