The first rain is always unforgiving,
Hurting the thirsty soil in torrents,
As if to say the words
That would remain forever
She was the one who wanted to bath
In the inaugural shower of the year
That was rather to pass through dry
But after all the shower that had to come down
After return to the pale dark night
With a moon that nobody perceives,
I saw a stolid face that had nothing to say
That had incarnated the word
All the barren land under the sky
was yet again


2 responses to “Stolid

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