The Lost Dream
We could have done better
If we had believed in the stories about happiness.
We are loosing strength for the new challenges.
The right on free vote is often lacking.
We considered you an ole
Tired dog, dying slowly
Unable to do change anything
To enlive by the power
Of thoughts, crying eyes.
We should have grasped the depths of the night,
Should have heard the rhymes by Boudelaire and Prevert
In the echoes of your voice of warmth.
When visiting exibitions of paintings,
We would admire shadows.
Paris now looks different.
Your silhouette glitters in every light.
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