You speak soft words
In a language dear to me.
The memories fly in and life makes sense again.
A friend is more than a ear or a shoulder,
It is our hand and eyes,
A family of sounds,
A nest of stranger’s feathers,
a piece of the stubborn beating leathery heart.
The bed is too big for us,
Who search hands and check on each other.
The apartment is too big for us,
Who eat sitting nearby and from the same plate.
The city is too big for us,
Who share passions and destinations.
The world is too big for us,
Who travel together and fight the two body problem.
Cold texture of pure poetry
Falling romantic on the street,
you, snow of this troubled winter,
Warm up my heart.
Unexpected and desired,
You infused magic in a routine too calculated
And hands that only work,
And do not caress enough.
i hear my heart screaming
And my mind shushing it
With no respect.
Timid and true
The heart keeps silent
And the show goes on.
I am surrounded by balance
With a under loud core.
True to myself,
I open the valve.
The sun rises slow
And weak
In the cold mornings of walking solo.
My desk awaits me,
My family demands a warm hand,
My time is split
With sorrow and pride.
The variables have changed,
Rearranged on a new order
In this life of unknown value.
Today a new road has been taken
And I am energized
As never before.
Close to my body,
Your little young breath paces my life
now.
Baby with innocent face
And voice of thunder,
Your sweetness spices my life
Up.
The heat brings my personality
To the limits and towards the feedjngs
I have seen seldom and fear.
Dried patience, heart of an arsonist,
Warmth of a mother
Form my orbit and stretch around my open arms.
Open arms with your shape.
The duty and the honour
Of working and walking
While all i see
Is time going by
With no flavour.
Patiently i shout and consider
Possibilities and present chances
Inventing a new setting
For me, for us,
Where time is only in the background
And not so abundant.
Spaghetti at the end of the adventure
In the evening of a Friday
With a bitter taste.
Sneaky but friendly
The pasta wraps me and my doubts
While the future holds a secret.
Mouth full of twigs
I cannot speak not smile
alone flying to my nest.
I build out each day,
And my uncomfortable today
Is a loved step ahead.
I feel no cold in me
At Christmas time.
The weeks waiting
and the colours of the fire
Make me anticipate its value each year
And now is September
And I am already holding the calendar.
Carrots dance on the window sill
Watching my spaghetti getting dressed
For the party.
I touch and feel
The richness and roughness of the pasta
That brings sun into my home.
The arrival home
Is a proper for the intense day
As the boiling stew expects
a smile and a daily achievement.
The day closes sweet and homey
After hours in the artificial world
That takes your breath away.
