I open my hand and count the imperfection
of the fingers, the fist, a broken wall,
I scribble indecisions in silence
on the blue lines of the notebook.
I review words, verses and allegories
collected in memory during
the course of the day, images
that cross time, echoes of a music
ancestral, a sneaky glance of your eyes
absent, the aroma that snatched
the wind on your skin, a blurred smile
of your lips.
I've been walking for hours, feet complain
of fatigue, ultraviolet rays
traced to the dermis.
I write without glasses... it's like writing
over the waves, I want to hear your voice
and the wind carries the echo, distorts
the sound, but how to forget the vibrato
of your angelic voice? it is inadmissible
not recognize her.
I squeeze empty in my hands,
silences roll in the words
unwritten,in repentance
of your eyes when you stare at me
and I feel that you approach like a ship
to the arms of a distant port.
I'll leave the next light on
day... I give you that future sun, trees,
birds, poetry and a rose.
I write without glasses
...my thoughts sail on waves.