September - 1973

June, easy, beautifull,

named after May

Barcelona is indeed

a perfect place for spring,

peaches, orange trees

Ciutadella,

words I found

noon, June was made for noon,

I would blink for little

little were we meant for

fall, eventually fell

upon what we would get, next

many of them falls since then

I’m still remembering times,

and still, as September rises

I will take a look back

now, we don’t get to get there,

trains they let her home

Ciutadella is so cold

the sand is like dust and stones,

the sea, she’s on her own

I have been there before