Nostalgia

By espacioreal | elespacioreal | 24 Sep 2023

That's it
fall
in my hands.
My fingers
are its towers
lookout,
your strength
facing the world
of the gray stigmas.
This new autumn
comes without mask.
It shows us
the true face of her,
splashed
of leaves
freshly fallen,
and with
scars
on the forehead.
Arrives
full
of landscapes
deteriorated,
of nostalgia
and extinct suns.
He looks in the mirror
and it is not recognized.
Someone
discover
tears in his eyes:
In fact
it's night rain
that starts
fall
over the city.