Everything that gives me hope
Is made of words and imagination.
It lies in my head
Ready to spring
And fill me with joy.
I plan projects, days, months, life,
Yet the good flavour comes from the unexpected
And my mouth has never enough.
I heard you say the truth
In that long meeting of no use
What you really thought
And was hiding behind my ear,
And the room was free.
Forced respect vanished
And my search for the way to
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.
WE talk of work, we speak numbers,
Hiding our personality behind white shorts
And grey skirts.
The day passes and I don’t recognize myself.
I listed my past curiosity
and what my hands can do with passion
To return myself at the end of the day.