Gabriele Zarotti
Erano giorni di poche parole.
L’aria sapeva di giardini
e poesia.
Bastava un alito improvviso
a scompigliare la mente,
e
le parole volavan via
come note sciolte dal rigo.
Mentre l’animo,
che non voleva sentir ragioni,
era tutto un mulinare d’emozioni.
Erano giorni,
giorni di maggio.
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Published on e-Stories.org on 06/09/2019.
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