Sweet, sweeter, rotten.
Boy, does autumn have a sense of humor!
She juggles rainbow-colored leaves
dressed up in her clown suit
until my apple heart falls to the ground,
hail-stricken, past its time,
and full of love past its meaning.

I hear the sky playing drums on my dreams
as if dying before choosing to live were the norm.

Sweet, sweeter, rotten
I have grown
before gathering the courage
to let you know
it is still April in my soul
and you are welcome
to live with me
even if sometimes I may be
less than the sweetest,
ripest fruit.

Romanian poet

Last updated January 01, 2012