terça-feira, 3 de junho de 2014

sunny winter morning.
the tips of the bonsai are
yellowing, too tested by the
season of chill and water and the
matted gray heavens. and then,
sneaking in, a breeze so fresh
one can almost feel excitement
again, the butterflies of childhood,
days auguring unexpected turns
against the almost already-run
maze of life.

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