His face was blue, on his fingers
Flecks of green. 'This is my father',
I thought.


Poem Mourning and Melancholia.


His face was blue, on his fingers Flecks of green. 'This is my father', I thought.

His face was blue, on his fingers Flecks of green. 'This is my father', I thought.

His face was blue, on his fingers Flecks of green. 'This is my father', I thought.

His face was blue, on his fingers Flecks of green. 'This is my father', I thought.