The last night
is running in circles.
Catching me by the waist
like a gost,
I am holding
my purple angel
tightly by the hand.
"Let as make mistakes!
You smell of wonder"
Forgive me!
I rushed
like a child to diner
before prayer
And I melted
one of your wings.
Ill. : Félix
AFTENE
Text : FURNICA
