Flying Pretender (bikers's last sonnet)

From glance to glance this morning's getting colder.
Behind the night a silent song is swept,
like wooden frame around his heart pain wrapped
and empty eyes are put in wet, dark folder.

A thousand mile road fading, resting, sleeping
and wheels of hope begin to fall apart.
Before the sun sets, there must be a new start
or hidden smiles will turn to open weeping.

He'll find a little peace, Flying Pretender.
His thoughts will close and he will not know when.
A sudden rest will hold him nice and tender

and nothing else but long dream, silence then,
when silver Honda flies up in surrender
and hits the rocks. He won't wake up again.
 

Lidija Brezavšček - kočijaž

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Lidija Brezavšček - kočijaž
Napisal/a: Lidija Brezavšček - kočijaž (urednica)

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  • 06. 05. 2010 ob 19:08
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