the other guineahen
died of a broken heart and we came to New York.
I used to sit at a table,drawing wings
with a pencil that kept breaking and i kept
remembering how your mind looked when it slept
for several years,to wake up asking why.
So then you turned into a photograph

of somebody who’s trying not to laugh
at somebody who’s trying not to cry

Autor: E.E. Cummings