I leave you my poems
A tranquil horizon
divided into uncertain hours
I hope the sky open up
leave a light that bathe me
for many years my being tired
waiting for peace, with hope
to find my ceiling, a floor
look at the sky, I kneel,
I await the executioners
who wish to block
the air that I have left,
before the final journey
I have to leave something to my son
the testament of my rare
illusions.
He didn’t miss anything,
a roof, a bed, and the bread!
ltslima.
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