The poet and the naked lady… I fell in love with a long-legged woman, her eyes of never-ending questions and her flowing auburn hair stole my voice and my eyes. I ate breakfast… Continue reading
The cold night whispered… The April rain hid my tears and I walked alone. Once great love turns indifferent and our love true turn to fathom dreams. We spoke careless words, maybe true,… Continue reading
Another time, another place…. The loneliness man at Fort Hood volunteered for missions in Central American. He wanted to escape everything, and he wanted to taste the Hemingway’s tropical paradise. Once he sought… Continue reading
Originally posted on marcellocomitini:
Pierre Mornet A C. S. Nei giorni in cui mi parlaviportavi il vento fra i miei capelli,sulle mie labbrail tuo viso le mani i tuoi seniil latte divino del…
