Selena

They were left behind,
the pointed shoes,
sleeping in a showcase,
of a clear room,
the big ovations,
the theaters full,
and until the Swan Lake,
floating in paradise.
The dressing rooms full of flowers,
of greetings and admiration,
they changed serenely,
for a small garden,
and a modest kitchen,
Where does a turkey whistle?
The old dancer,
he did not want to anchor himself to the past,
nor to his well-earned fame,
nor to the finery in his honor;
he simply leaned back,
in the skin of his present,
and from time to time,
a melody accompanies her,
that invites her to continue dancing,
about the sigh of a cloud.