luni, 25 iulie 2011

Spre iarna...

    Pentru matusa mea preferata



                                                 Am renuntat de mult sa fiu ,o stanca
                                                 Am tot sperat ca viata-i mai adanca,
                                                 Dar m-am trezit la jumatatea ei ,
                                                 Iar anii ce-au ramas, sa nu mai fie grei.

                                                 Mi-e inima o pata de rugina
                                                 La tample ,flori albe din gradina ,
                                                 Si fata mea e camp ingalbernit de dor,
                                                 Pe care serpuieste, agale un izvor.

                                                 Am suflet greu de silnicia lumii
                                                 Caci arsita si gerul si picatura lunii
                                                 S-au adunat pe rand intr-o tipsie
                                                 Facandu-mi viata innegurata si salcie

                                                 Mi-e toamna trista si florile gradinii,
                                                 Stau ofilite, in miopia capruie a privirii.
                                                 In traista, pun caldura, geruri, ploi ce mai apuc,
                                                 Ce nevoita sunt in iarna sa le duc...


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