Rapciune

grapes 3

Abia intrasem in toamna
impinsa de la spate de niste ani scarbiti
de aerele arsitei de mare doamna,
chemata de bostanii vesnic lihniti.
Pe umbra curtii sanii grei de vin
ai viei ma invita-n casa,
mi-e sete dar din pudoare ma abtin,
otrava tineretii plange, nu se lasa.
In zarzavaturi ma intind, si in dulceturi,
pe palma se desface-o nuca – soapta-amara,
privirile coboara obosind in ceturi
si ploua si mi-e frig pe dinafara.

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