Above the fields of alhambra i see the night sky adoring me like a god of the valleys my old body is stretched to fill the shores the faint light of the moon scatter the shades the shy waves sculpt the freshness of its ends I find the grass under my toes strange i climb the parks and read on the park benches a ceremony of ageing, leaves make their way on my feet like love is born in their fall i stand in the volcanic ashes of my being. sleep carries me always to the next morning.
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