their eyes to heaven,
not see me?
of autumn leaves
I have not perceived the scent, as they are intoxicated
noise of the stars of destiny.
My feet are on the points
not you hear me?
he crept in at night,
like a thief that is living
remained on the table
of our endless afternoons.
ears pricked,
not talk to me?
Immersed in a poignant silence,
look even at the going down of the day
the softest breath of your mouth.
In a limbo of seasons, it seems vain to expect
even more irresponsible not to.
So, on notes lost in time
irreverent dance right and wrong.
0 comments:
Post a Comment