A series of poem about things and days
under the roof;
The Brush’s Tale
I know in a second she will be gone to the bathroom
she’ll rinse her lovely oval face
And unsoiled her small little mouth
she’ll put on her usual piece; denim and tee
and here she comes; she’ll come to grab me.
her marbly soft palm grips me tight
lifts me up to meet those my friends; who
nap and live on her top.
Hello good friends, let me untangled you
With my thin fingers and legs
Let me straighten through your jungle
That would adjoin charm and shine
to the lovely facade of yours
Warm spicy air breathing in the air,waking
up sleepers from their temporary sweet doze
dancing utensils are all ready
those loved ones sit sweet and tight
Can we start eating yet?
“darling what’s your plan today”
“daddy I want more cereal”
“would you please hand me the butter?”
“this orange juice is so good!”
“…about last night….,”
“I love you baby.”
“I have to leave.”
“don’t forget your lunch sweety.”
“we need to talk.”
“will you marry me?”
Kiss and slaps, hugs and tears, together and apart
All comes in harmony with the clinks from the dancing utensils
Eulogy at the Door
" I love you"
An universal saying that epitomize every hidden fondness and showed off hatred
because it all roots to one whisper in their prayer : I care.
to be continued