SPRING NOSTALGIA
Children run after butterflies,
and, I run after your memory.
Spring affects the senses,
everyone laughs and I suffer my seasonal loneliness.
In my nights the illusion deceives me, I long for you to return.
At this time of year I roam the park,
I sit in the same chair, in front of the tree,
where we carved our names.
Coloured flowers dance on my face,
but I see them grey.
I confess; I want to be a bird to fly to you.
I am a simple passenger of time,
waiting for spring to end,
to have you again; between my arms that burn like flames,
and not to imagine you asleep next to him.
