
Nunca me siento,
ni al tomar café
ni al esperar el tren.
Soy humo que siempre flota
o gota,
que gota a gota llena los ríos de tu memoria.
Tu puerta,
vieja y desteñida no se abre.
Tu corazón, cerrado por derrumbes
que tu voluntad no pudo evitar.
Pero detrás de aquella puerta,
detrás del telón de hierro que le pones a la vida,
sangra tu herida…
Y yo, parado,
frente al sol,
pido mi café de la mañana.
C.2022, Francisco Bravo Cabrera, 30 AUG 2022, València, España 🇪🇸
Very interesting doors that have been through a lot.
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Y Gary certainly look like they have. Thank you Pat.
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What a very beautiful image, I love those gorgeous doors. Your words are spectacular Francis.
What a somber piece my friend. Beautifully written. 🦋❤️🤗
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Thank you 🙏🏻 I truly appreciate your support and encouragement! Love and blessings dear friends! 🌹🙏🏻🙂
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You are so welcome our friend. Blessings to you both. 🦋❤️🤗🌹
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Such a gift this piece and your lovely photograph. They have seen a lot of life and feel that too. Bravo on that spectacular ending. Our love to you both. 🦋🙏🥰
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Thank you 🙏🏻 so much Joni! Sending you both love and hugs! 🤗♥️🙏🏻
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You are so very welcome. We are sending hugs right back. 🦋❤️
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