Ses Andau

Lantias, Elena Ledda, 2018

You are gone what is going to be left of that world you used to be for me, now? You are gone and where will the dust, that rises slowly here, cease its fly? Tell me if you see me dressed in my Sunday best while I am looking for you inside those clouds You are gone, will this lullaby reach that far place, for you? Bombs as storm not yet silent still thundering blocking you, blocking me.

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