Black Bird

Black Bird

Roubado de http://euqueroapenasfalar.blogspot.com

Lonely. Apparently. Doing what? No idea. But, still singing. Flying. Jumping between the naked trees. Oh, there are naked streets also. Naked walks. People so dressed. Some cold. On the streets. In the faces. The tobacco is not enough to understand the movement. The calm. Here, at this town, the tobacco arrived for the first time in Europe. Now I’m smoking, like my ancestral. At least, half part of them. Again faces cold, closed. Maybe the cold from outside goes inside. Great ignorance!! What do I know? I’m cold also. Inside, outside, my feet, my hands, not my eyes. My heart, maybe. Someone called from a hot place. Another, from a snowing home. The calls said me that I’m not so cold. But cold, somehow. I know that I’m still alive. I could, I should, I would. Don’t like these mode verbs. They don’t express what is. They try to do what I want but, … Nice colour now, no dark, no clear. Almost gray. See some lights, growing while the darkness sky comes. The heaven is shinning, I dreamed something nice. Don’t remember. Was laughing when waked up. Good. Feel calm. The pipe was relaxing. Strange taste. Hot hands, now. Legs freezing. I could think about the sun at somewhere. Or, simply the smile more hot that I saw until today. Even the tears from her do my heart some comfort. God bless that smile. Someday I want to say again. Red eyes. Some water. But, not enough to leave the burden fall down. Thinking about mango. We had at our home. At the first, so sweet. At the other, more than one kind. More dark, now. Eyes looking the heaven. Seeing the control, the calm, the example. One year passed, I can’t remember the exact date. I don’t want. But, finally. I’m opening. I read some languages, I speak others, understand some eyes, some faces. The black bird went home, it is time to sleep.