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.

4 comments:

  1. Monsieur RIDAO:
    I do not understand anything.
    Salutations

    ReplyDelete
  2. Howwwwwwr!! Me neither.

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

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

    ReplyDelete