Una rola

Mary My
my Mary My
and flies
as a a feather, in the air
through the shadow
right to my brain.

Mary My
my Mary My
and lies
as a muse, in my bed
though she lies
right to my ears.

Heaven sent
flowers made
and says
says that there's no way back
and cries
right to the rests of my heart.

N.M.S

Los saludo desde Buenos Aires, la ciudad que nunca duerme, pero que sobre todo, nunca deja dormir.