The soil, that u remember,
When a step represents the world, that u leave behind,
Becomes the horizont in wich u dissapear...
The darker(blodier)...the more fertile
(our soil... at least that's what she used to say)
A step as a mesurement,
That represents time,
A face, torn by years,
Imprinted memories...
Wrinkles on her forehead, cheeks...
Steps as escaping birds...
And her hand, old
Has become soil (in silence)
As hellos to the morning, when the steam rises from the cold ground
Sparcles made of little stones that glow from her eyes...
At night when left alone
I would embrace her... and let her spill inside my heart
I would hug her for the etternity
With sparcles made of memmories
But this moment u're leaving,
As a step cought in the trap of the same soil,
Devoured by the utopian freedom
But your thoughts are still with her...
There... the place u call your home
Ni komentarjev:
Objavite komentar