Elephant
Press your cheek against its trunk
Imagine it was somebody else
Not just a dead piece of junk
Inhale the odour of a wax illusion
Too bad it cannot smell better
And yet it is a message of a kind
This funny-looking, pink, perfumed letter
First you refuse it with a start
As if afraid that it may hurt
Then, slowly, you let go the grip
After all, the elephant won’t blurt
You hold it tightly looking at me
Your eyes get softer in the dark
Your voice embraces me with emotion
Thank God, elephants are still alive
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