I’ve begun my voyage in a paper boat without a bottom; I will fly to the moon in it. I
have been folded along a crease in time, a weakness in the sheet of life. Now,
you’ve settled on the opposite side of the paper to me; I can see your traces in the
ink that soaks through the fibre, the pulped vegetation. When we become
waterlogged, and the cage disintergrates, we will intermingle. When this paper
aeroplane leaves the cliff edge, and carves parallel vapour trails in the dark, we will
come together.
Статистика страницы на pesni.guru ▼
Просмотров сегодня: 1