Inside Luciano's Pocket

Every single one of the Rosaceae were orange-blossoming.

They jumped on a vessel, in the salmon lake.

The minor leap of luxury.

But nothing of this is written on paper.

little Rosidae, when are you going to forgive me?

The forest is yellow

and you are given orange because pink wasn't on the canvas.

A little Irish snow came to greet your big and warm entrance.

Whether the flood is brown or yellow it does not mind.

I don't want to say 'flower' but there is

something inside the clock on the Ledger Wall

Something tells me that the days are long gone

amidst the autumn sun

inside Luciano's pocket

not warm

instead cold and forlorn.