When Billy comes from work on a summer day.

Draw the lines of
Cranes, cranes  fly
From my hair
To your cold lakes
One by one,
White birds of
My healthy solitude.
Bridges of sadness
I knit with their thread
Hollow my swift fingers
And challenging the act
Of weaving you . 
 
Understand shall I
The  choking energy
Of your bachelor love?
Will you become
This fleeting sight
Of dreamy  fluids
That flood me not ?
Freezes the image
Leaving [...]

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