Gorge cold

Invisible and hard,
The cold of this gorge reaches me
And swipes away
the comfort of this Sunday.
Nature touches me
and like a stream Refills my hands.

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Ever-emotional

Gathering emotions and transforming them
In those little wrinkles and kilos who do not leave
Is a tireless job
I seem not to be able to escape.
Making visible what can only be felt
Is a talent of man,
Yet an embarrassing mark.

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