A book of days
and a verse made of nocturnal syllables
The sweet fragance of flowers at night
and the tiny, even sweeter trace of a recalled moment
The taste of salt from yesterday's twilight
and the kamikaze dive of seagulls
The somberness of some thoughts
and the tides that wash them down
The newly-found harmonies
and the screaming dissonances
A shiny shell found in the sands
and the echo of a silvery voice
The stony vessel that takes me into the night
and its austral, yet believable moon.
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