Baking Paper Rolling Paper

the Sunday Mirror ramblings

Tree Square
That neighborhood is inundated with children in the afternoons
wind has the aroma of the bark soaked in
The wisdom of rain has drenched love your skin every winter

contemplate the tree

small square that then

And while I think Benedetti,
I coupled to he wanted to be a more fruit in your glass Getting lost in your clothes

Drinking orange colors of his memory

Miro tree if it was a mirror
Children watercolor protracted his game
furrowed and beautiful skin reflects lack
absence hands And gaze
full of green leaves
Announced the following dream