You always only you were a close friend and the beautiful whispered words, confused echoed in the alley, but in mind as stars in the sky in summer. Where the hateful oblivion holding the heart frost, so ice was the first flower, were running between the immense and lonely hills, as the pastor behind the white flock and dressed in soft snow flakes, He left every one that he sees an angel. You, white knight from the slow path, It was already known as the wind.
Umberto F. M. Cefalà
28/03/09
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