poem poems

White Roads

Roads in white - thin veils of sugar, salt,
that winds tear in front of faces;
it hurts, it's sweet.
Windows are closed,
passengers are pensive,
fireplaces are lit
days are wished for a sleep.

Naked statues talk,
perhaps they ask for clothes;
imponent houses, fences,
accept submissively each falling flakes.

Lovely white
freezes rocking chairs,
quenches scents of flowers,
leaves on everything
its melancholy song,
with messages to the sun.




Poems: A page of Rosa Clement´s site
© (1999)