Evening Contemplation

My beloved journal, shadows at the door;

Like Salvador’s paper, as the baron I lie.

Fryderyk’s mazurkas, a glass of port,

charming desolation: Who am I?

A day of beauty, a waltzing peace,

why is my mind with you occupied?

Chopin’s left hand, a page of eclipse,

my heart sinks like a butterfly.

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Published in: on 25/09/2016 at 7:23 PM  Leave a Comment  

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