Free Do It Yourself Dune Buggy

my GELSOMINO word street


comes the sound of the town spring,
and the petals fall to the rhythm of "yes", the "maybe",
into a longing for guessing, for wanting
if you want. .. or not.

The wind carries the flower
moving to the rhythm of the heart,
that inner butterfly houses
chimeras, blanket
hopes on if you want ... or not.

Oh the fickle waves of life!
feelings That big wheel!
That if you look, that if you speak,
that if you walk at your side,
that if you write letters,
that if you pass ... or not.
tireless
And you walk by
city streets in an attempt to find
, tripping on a cross
looks a thousand times desired.

But you are unable to speak
because only taught you to express
gestures and grimaces,
with your white face, with your striped jersey,
something with your life and your shabby
waddling dizzy.

But thine eyes that shine
alone, scream and fuss about
confess to the four winds
that flower in you
has only one name and one petal:
your own heart.

(c) Isidro R. Ayestarán, MMX
photo: Patricia Gomez of the House
taken during the show
DREAMS CABARET
May 5 - ZAPA BAR (Santander)