By espacioreal | elespacioreal | 10 Mar 2021
In this house
No more than
black cigarettes,
empty chairs,
a sleeping child.
Maybe,
approach the door,
a voice and a brother
asking for a piece of bread
or a revolver.
Then,
home
chairs will be filled with people,
the curtains will let in the fresh air,
the child will play with a ball.
No one will knock on the door
no voice,
no name,
and from inside they will be heard
happy days
around the banquet.
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A veces leo.
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