As a child
I spent the days
among the houses (always small, with small patios) that my mother
with her salary (mother worked hard)
she rented in modest neighborhoods
from my city
and Nona's house
that is still standing,
there was (I don't know if it will continue to exist)
a tree
that gave peaches
in the month of February.
I made that tree,
Well, one afternoon I buried a stone
and it sprouted and gave shade and some fruits
round ones that my father cut into pieces
with a knife.
They are both dead. Mom is dead too. Only I am still alive.
And when I die too,
They will definitely die,
and the peach tree will die
Even if he still stands he will die
because he will not have history,
No one will know where he came from.
What are you doing there on the border with the neighboring house?
nor why is it populated with cicadas
every sunrise.