Playing and webbing at the same time
The afternoon when somebody said to him
That the hand that caresses
Cannot be the same that strikes.
While his body rests
His mind continues traveling
And up to date he only realized
That he can not imagine everything.
Where the things are coming to an end
Doing a mystery of his schedule
Because he spends his hours otherwise
But without forgetting other clocks
So that when they converge
Summer becomes a party
And a comet without threads refuses to run away.
On the bay area
And from there
Normally to the border
Where the lines lose clarity
Giving space to the essence
Going beyond the words
To let them know
That it demands less effort to be breathed
Beyond the outbreak
Of laughs or tears
In the hard environment of the tigers.
I already forgot her name
When nobody wanted to ask
Because it was already only an image
When its definition was intended
And what is left is a little more
And when she finally returns
Nobody would have missed her
Because each one saved a little
Of what she gave them at dawn.