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Snapshot
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by [Somesanu ]

2016-07-11  |     | 



The place, I donít know it, nothing happens, itís hostile,
the trees dress with heavy snow,
the thin wind passes by horseback over forests,

somewhere further, thereís an old and bleak station,
in the back, thereís a pub where life is being drunk,
someone curses, gets up and threatens;

then thereís silence, or maybe the other ones donít feel like it,
a train passes by the sordid windows,
in the dim light of the platform, thereís the betrayed woman.


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