And this time?

By espacioreal | elespacioreal | 15 May 2021


The shadow of a tree faints
over the center of the mat.
Barely one side of the bed breathes
in golden threads of another time.
And this time?

The painting, the table, the door
and the sun that does not come. It's raining,
there is always room for rain.
plenty of world for the rain.
My feet are not in the mud
But the rain dances in my eyes

Nothing has been known since yesterday;
a little light awaits
between the curtains.
And the words?
I have climbed the dry tree from my window,
I have descended from him one,
twice, more than three.
I have heard the saying of the wind.

Dawn will come, tree of green fire.
The light will come at dawn, warm ash in the sky.
The sun will come, it will speak the name of hope in my ear.

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espacioreal
espacioreal

A veces leo.

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