The grey sky is only a cover
Of a day with no written plot
And no established ending.
A coffee, a cookie, a smile
Recharge and push towards the first step
Of the adventure sitting on top of these stairs
And the ideas of writing a book,
Applying to advanced jobs,
And Change lifestyle from today
Materialize and become family.
What tickles my mind
in this dark winter day?
Worries of career, fears of loneliness
This undetermined future of ours
Join forces and seed doubts.
I drop my anchor
In the small achievements in my wallet
And those tiny ideas shining in the dark.
Yellow and empty,
The bench stares at the sun alone.
It waits nonstop for a purpose
And yet it is playing its role.
My blood rushes and my lips distend
At the thought of new chapter.
Few pages are created naïve,
Blank and open.
Sentences drop like rice grains
Leaving tiny marks
Forever.
White hair between my fingers
And apparent on my mind,
Signal the time and story I have crossed.
Natural and unprecedented feathers
That take me to that next for of life
I am longing for,
Since a child.
I march unnaturally
And the strength is artificial
When fighting is not a choice
but the only solution.
I March stiff and serious
For what will come through the door
And not only my body will be overdressed,
Yet judged.
I always make sure
That a bridge is in sight
Or a door in proximity.
Few objects can guarantee you
An opportunity today
And the second road
looks always sunnier.
