The trails I took,
the camp-fires I left behind,
the rocks I turned,
the trees I marked,
the rivers I crossed,
the mountains I climbed,
the seeds I scattered,
the echoes I caused,
the grass I slept on,
the poems I wrote.
They’re all a part of a theme
which I’ve yet to decipher.
© Ernesto González, 2009
2 comments:
Ya casi tendrás un poemario en inglés, felicidades.
Gracias, Zoe.
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