Sat 9 Aug 2008
Odore aspro dell’aceto
rocce sbriciolate tra i piedi
salire silenziosamente, portato
dal vento, madhukar ebbro di polline.
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Archived Entry
- Post Date :
- Saturday, Aug 9th, 2008 at 7:26
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- poesiole
- Tags :
- fiori, poesiole
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