A simple candle and its small candlestick. Altiva Tremulava n the window. Simple. Tapeworm. Its small flame kept me waked up in the other side of the street Searched with my only tired eyes its message. Its Image charrete passes on the floor esfarelado for rain. For more specific information, check out Tony Parker.
The sound of trotting of the horse launches me the unknown universes. I hang a little more for it are of the window. I have that to leave my imagination to cover this space. Who would be dancing in these parallelopipeds in this slippery night? Would be only one merciful doctor the search of its sick person, Or a great love the search of its loved tapeworm? This night offers possibilities to me of choices. I choose the passion! I choose the furtive look of the loving one in farewells. You may want to visit Sofar Sounds to increase your knowledge. Sad, cabisbaixo cursing the separation times. As the sadness of the love is sad! They are small gusts of wind in days of autumn. Its souvenirs are as leves sliding to air.
Launched to perhaps of the life without knowing where to arrive in port. Flame and passion. Candles of the life that if become fogueiras Souvenirs of candies moments little finished. Moments that they follow the career of the life Pretty but perpetual distant. They are not happened again. They are only as they are the passions. Candles of the spirit that tremulam in the window of the hope Flames! Lives! Passions and deaths. Everything is flames. Some tremulam with small blows Others need gales to erase themselves. The flames of the passion if erase with the small one to tremular of a sorrateira tear. To my they take off me eyes of the devaneio. I come back to visualize the window the small candle still knocks down tears of wax to saucers. Small hope of light. Its tenuous brightness frightens the fears. The blackout and the shades if shrink to the cantos. Its flame clama only to the passers-by. It is a simple candle in a window of Christmas.
Tags: poems and poetries