sending prayers to those victims and their families...peace!
No one knows how things come in his way.
.
He died today at ten past three,
the final tick of the soccer match.
Shepherds complained of a winter wind,
the butcher laid down his lamb.
.
Some mothers say he was a poet,
he wrote stunning ones on rare paper
about-you see, almost everything, silver or gold,
the poems that were eloquently foreign.
.
Flies walk against the windowpane.
Dogs bark, restless themselves
that the Aegean mocks mourners
gathered in his room.
.
Nobody knows how he passed away
or why-he always gets up at 7 o'clock,
he occupied no relatives or criminals way
of throw himself against the rock.
.
Fishermen had their boats shine
along the shore against the Peloponnese,
In Montana, women are certain
Greece tease herself, not the Turks.
.jpeg)
