If I had one hundred flowers I would be so much happy...
I would keep one for myself (I do like flowers) to shine beautifully in my room, lightning my days!
I would give you 63, because I love you 63 (I would give you one thousand because I care millions about you, but I only have one hundred flowers and 63 are white roses).
I would save 5 for each of the 5 graves of people I love and watch over me (and one millions tears of sadness and joy).
One perfect purple pansy for my one perfect first love, dried in between blank sheet of a big story book. One for my mom, a red carnation for my dad, two for Mariana and two for Ines, three for Maria and one... the last one... the last one for the river...
I guess if I had one hundred flowers I would need one hundred more...
Monday, July 30, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Lost without a trace
Life has very funny ways!
One day I'm on top of the world, sharing smiles with complete strangers, joyfully appreciating every single second of my existence. The next day the sun shines on my window and lazily I wake up and hear the birds happily singing in the freshness of the morning. My eyes shine, my lips organize themselves in a way that no possible frown can hunt my days. But although everything is arranged in the same old perfect way of a happy day, I should know best that I'm already on the move to some other different day... one less bright...
Bad days always come and make me doubt of all the previous happiness. Was it just a dream, was it all just a cruel trick? Were we ever real?
I do remember the good days, and I miss them so much... But as time goes by I don't think I can still believe on a dream with nothing or very little to hold on to...
But soon the rain will come and my fears will be washed away and maybe my dreams will be true or maybe new dreams will come through
One day I'm on top of the world, sharing smiles with complete strangers, joyfully appreciating every single second of my existence. The next day the sun shines on my window and lazily I wake up and hear the birds happily singing in the freshness of the morning. My eyes shine, my lips organize themselves in a way that no possible frown can hunt my days. But although everything is arranged in the same old perfect way of a happy day, I should know best that I'm already on the move to some other different day... one less bright...
Bad days always come and make me doubt of all the previous happiness. Was it just a dream, was it all just a cruel trick? Were we ever real?
I do remember the good days, and I miss them so much... But as time goes by I don't think I can still believe on a dream with nothing or very little to hold on to...
But soon the rain will come and my fears will be washed away and maybe my dreams will be true or maybe new dreams will come through
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