Sometimes we get some memories like
if they were balls of paper that we throw
the back
then returns a tattoo of a smile,
that you're not sure where you did it,
split you
sadness like a cotton sugar they were
after making all the world conspires to
live view some of the skin of children
that even death can take away
in his collection of adventures
something, sometimes,
as if the hands of your father
come to you with the caress of the evening
takes you to the prayer
having grown at odd and impulsive
cherish you on your bed until
the original pose of your dreams in the belly
and your thumb between your lips
a kite flying to your childhood
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