Naked Truth
If I would walk under
The ice wind moon,
I would dance at the
music tone.
I would think of music
And look at the birth
Of the frail spring
beauty
From a brilliant start
of February,
Like the star that rises
And sends
Cold blinding light
Over the Earth to make
it right.
The emerald and cobalt
White blanket of cloud
In the eastern sky
Make even some black birds
cry,
Hoarsely in some dusky
woods,
Gossiping about some
large boobs.
Tomshinsky@2026
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