to see you walk
already seems to want to get to know the
looks rude accompanying you.
When you go to school,
white apron and black shoes ballerina,
you want to come back
between the desks to study.
A horse, bike or car
ask the wind to split into two choirs
side who bow in your path.
And the wind, poor man, and obeys
succumbs quick.
From a distance all the same, closely
smiles as sunsets,
each with different nuances. Inside the heart
different from a past, and
who knows what dreams at night.
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