I've finally found out
That most of the tears I cried
Were not mine.
They dropped from other eyes,
so clear, salty and bright
-but they were not mine.
Yet I have on my face
All the tracks
They've left behind.
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Passarinho pousado no muro da casa Carrega no bico a intenção do ninho. Borboleta azul de grandiosas asas Recém libertada da dor do casulo...
Marvelous poem, Ana! I loved it!
ResponderExcluirCongratulations!!!! your blog is very beautiful!!!!!!
Kisses