Maria

by Daniela Stephanou





the mind,

with a sink

all soaked

in water color

landscapes



washes,

the familiar

faces

blending now

bouquets of

lost gazes, 



drains,

the cliffs 

of words

that are

now fading

scribbles,



dries,

the time

in the field

by the river

with a lost

bouquet

and spoken

scribbles,



the mind 

that

cleans the dirty

porcelain twice,

and hangs the 

plates on the walls



remembers

that-





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