Sanatorium

 

 

A week has passed since my last
letter. A week, no more.
And yet a life is passing
as I write this, a life, a loss
I am unable to fathom.
Maria and I go soon to Merano
where my father is waiting
for the broodmare of the blue horses
to escort him beyond the white walls
and the newly green forest.
For their continued presence
I humbly thank you.

 

 

 

Back

SaveSave

SaveSave