THE CAT

The grass, the silence,
the moving of the shadow. 

Alone, in your morning cry,
the grass, the silence, the moving of the shadow
and the stalks of the wind. Your relief
is to see you calm while waiting
that I come from afar, your rest
is the hope of meeting in the evening
by chance in a winter.

Leave you to disappear,
to be your sky where you look
without remorse, have your regret,
your memory, your empty hands ...
Maybe it's sweeter to cry than to have me.

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