My heart needs a banner.
Not for the history that goes back.
Ill-painted, with imminent deaths.
But for the golden bowl of memories.
From those harbour days,
and city magpies with liquid songs.
Before the sunrise
My heart needs a banner.
Not for the history that goes back.
Ill-painted, with imminent deaths.
But for the golden bowl of memories.
From those harbour days,
and city magpies with liquid songs.
A Wandering Poet 