Como un follaje gris
crujiente, el alma
flota en el final
de algún principio.
Encuentro el tiempo,
el que me deja ver
si lo que he soñado
concluye en algo
y así volar a él.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Eduardo Dip.Published on e-Stories.org on 27.09.2012.
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