Chubby fingers

I type, I type, I point
The whole day
To tell the reality from my chair-of-view.
I point and judge what is unusual
And deserving a poke.
But my fingers are still chubby,
Maybe filled still with words and opinions,
With ambition and caresses.

Advertisements

Short fingers

I have only short fingers
To tell my story
And type passionately this night.
In this short distance,
All life condenses in drops of memories
And vapour of lost kisses.
Short words will be ideal
To write those heavy memories,
The persons that can only be remembered,
And the baby steps I climbed
And now behind my back.