She came in from the cold,
flushed,
He filled the room
The scent of the air and spirits,
clear voice
And it is disrespectful to employment
chatter.
She immediately dropped to the floor
The fat is the art magazine,
And now it seemed,
What's in my big room
Very little space.
It was all a bit disappointing
And quite ridiculous.
However, she wanted,
Me to read aloud to her Macbeth.
Barely reaching the earth bubbles,
About which I can not speak without emotion,
I noticed, she also worries
And stares out the window.
It turned, that the great spotted cat
The hard-molded on the edge of the roof,
Trapping pigeons kissing.
I was angry more than anything in the,
What we have not kissed, and doves,
And gone are the days of Paolo and Francesca.
6 February 1908
