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cold of the wolf

a hand puppet

unable to put up a fight

the hand goes crazy –

excuse me if i’m clumsy

remember the other months

a december that closed its mouth

cleverness (that’s what moves me)

we new ones are out in the cold

lint resembles snow to me

clinging to your eyelash why haven’t i

been able to see which of us is right

let’s repeat it before i forget

that people die in every season

watch the roses fade

Written by
Pablo Picasso
1881-1973 / Male / Spanish
Lines·Words
14·79
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