The Gulls Freedom
It becomes a mirror, the sea, while reflecting the sun.
The gulls are reflected in their infinite freedom.
Where are you running?
Stop and listen, at the leaves falling from the seas
at the warm ground, whims like a child.
Lizard hands and masks of glass
suspended in the night sky, where souls meet.
My though are like stars in my head,
bright at night,
too far to reach, there to hear.
poem by Luca Menin
Added by Poetry Lover
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