Majestic are the little things
That Each day I do not expect
And encounter behind my door.
A regular life
Dotted with tiny adventures.
I let myself get surprised
By the man whose past nobody knows
And by the driver who takes the bus through the city
With shocking pink nails.
A smile is behind the corner,
A story is sitting nearby.
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.
