la mia testa è il mio rifugio
Ombra lunga sul prato
che sguscia al mutare del vento
e gioca;
dita tese all’infinito,
smarrite nel blu che le sovrasta,
stringono l’esile filo
poi, una pietra
l’inciampo
e il legame si spezza
e la notte s’avvolge
alle membra stanche
di un volo mancato.
Published in Poeticherie and Versi a raccolta
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