We are shaken like socks
In a washing machine
Started on an early morning
Of July.
I feel you, my love,
Near but thorn,
present but distracted,
But always similar.
New path in the forest
Don’t abandon me
In this green forest with hidden lives and rumors.
The sun its high and the heat a curse
For an animal like me
Whose skin is gentle and the soul pale.
With no reference and no voice,
Only a new path is possible
And of already started behind me.
Food hunt
I am starving today
For those warm afternoons running in the fields
And those silent evenings reflecting on a book.
Food for the avid mind
And food for the temperamental belly
Do not overlap
And are complementary.
