MY HORSE
A day imagined my steed,
What was a knight in clear night?
The path now swings open more subtle
The time redeems the cruel tone.
The wind takes the veil spreading
And the moon sometime now prepares
The brightness bolder and does not separate
Even he could see aimlessly
I have not had the best luck
With nothing to perhaps comfort
Step meaningless of a poet.
Comet spreading in breadth
The times bolder shape
The lucky indeed not complete.
MARCOS LOURES
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