
Like those summer days when you dive into the sea. You take your head out of the water. You smell watermelon. The picture sticks like a decal in in your mind. The fragrance remains. Thus. As you remember your great love.You are.
You finish a book. A caressing expense. You feel brave. You had patience. You loved words. You made a story. You made yourself pleased. Thirsty to see in its eyes. Your words.
Time passes. Unimportant hours. Her words are sparkling . They light up a target. Not to be lost. Following the route to find yourself near her.
You keep. You do not ask to take. You look around you. You know, but you do not care. You're ready to climb uphill. Once more, It's not the last one. You forgot to rejoice. Not to love.
Your banner to your soul inside is waving. You care. Not for the sky to be cloudy there. You can fill up with blue the most beautiful image..
There is a day that does not belong to a week. The time is lost. You, egotistically, change the name of the day. Even if for the rest of the people it's Monday. You know. You ask the day to know, too.