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Alleyways
I watch a dog
wandering the streets.
with a tired air,
afraid.
Quickly dodging
Passers-by and vehicles
to disappear
down a calm alley.
In which roads
will my seasons end up?
In the colour
In the heat of a summer
Colours
of parched flowers,
of noises already forgotten . . .
. . . of voices
and breeze in the hair
to muddle thoughts.
Seagulls swoop down
to steal smiles.
I don't know their nests.
I only remember my colours.
It is difficult to write about love.
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Where do we fly ?
In a blossoming flower
I see your existence,
in the breeze, from the sea
I hear your breath...
nocturnal light,
and armfuls of dreams
to squeeze you again.
It's like a child asking:
where do we fly tomorrow ?
Watery moments
Until yesterday
a single raindrop
lit up my dreams.
Today,
not even the sea
carries me through to the evening.
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