Ricordo
quel letto di foglie
tra grappoli maturi
smosso dal vento
ed il fruscio a fare da cornice
ricordo
gocce succulente
di quei frutti
ad insaporire i nostri quindici anni
e tornano
come una carezza
prepotenti fino all’alba
poi sgomenta
mi ritrovo foglie secche
tra le mani…
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