March promise
A cold March awaits me
With those young pointy flowers
that stars at me curious during my walks.
A whole brought season in front,
The do not look back to the cold winter
And happily channel their energy
To shine this year.
No promised result, no guaranteed next year, only one year more.
Moving on
You tell me to move on
Without complaining
Not to ruin the image of your reality.
I will step out
But my opinions are sacred,
Laid in a basket inside me,
And they will be written if not told.
Reality passes quietly and silent
and I needed time to give a name
to all the happenings.
I hate labels but they give the right words
to tell the story
I do not want to forget.
Low fences
The rigid walls of a predefined career
Are easy to aspire to
And reassuring when thinking about the future.
Walls that delimit a job,
That Somebody else has designed
Are very high and the missing view
Is sadly breathtaking.
