THESE ARE NOT LEAVES
These are not leaves that the autumn
throws on my hair, my shoulders;
they are hands greeting me today
while I drag an old and heavy suitcase
that keeps the seasons we lived together.
These are not raindrops running down
my cheeks, but tears: so limpid and clear.
These are not puddles reflecting now my
face but rivers of thoughts and reflections.
Goodbyes always hurt; they leave you
bitter in the heart, even if, somewhere
out there, a world of magic colors waits…
