The cologne
Splashed over his face and neck
In the morning
Well fitting suit with buttons of same cloth
Tie in place
Well heeled
Nothing could cover the smell of
Anxiety and depression
His hands very soft
His eyes piercing
Blue ring circling brown iris
What were his thoughts
On his 7 km daily long walks
From the small hamlet
To the nearby town
Umbrella in hand in case...
"skata spiri" (shitty pimpleface) when unhappy with me
I do not know my father
Take away the chain and add umbrella is 100% him even the face.
1 comment:
A delight. I read it out loud and it sings! Prost!
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