Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Scent of a child


Unopened envelopes lurk over my shoulder
to remind me that I can't get to sleep
and forget the unforgettable.
The screen, bluer than the seven skys,
keep asking usernames and passwords,
and I can only think
on his innocent, pure face,
his nose scenting the wreck,
unconscious of my loving care.
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4 comments:

  1. DyhegoFebruary 8, 2011 at 5:17 PM

    Monsieur RIDAO:
    I do not understand anything.
    Salutations

    ReplyDelete
  2. José Miguel RidaoFebruary 8, 2011 at 6:54 PM

    Howwwwwwr!! Me neither.

    I can't, I can't a gromenaueeeeer...

    ReplyDelete
  3. MeryFebruary 28, 2011 at 8:57 AM

    Merece la pena pasarse por aquí con tantos idiomas en flor; estoy segura de que no falta mucho para que nos dejes un poema a lo torpedorrr,que tu si puederrr, si puederrr.

    ReplyDelete
  4. José Miguel RidaoJune 3, 2011 at 9:40 AM

    I'll try. Chiquistani is very difficult to translate.

    ReplyDelete

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