Zacarías

Every Wednesday at sunset,
Zacarias, the sewing box,
briefcase with threads and needles in hand
went out to mend broken hearts,
I found them in some corner,
with a lamp turned off,
in balconies that were left,
suspended in nothingness.
Impeccable his darning,
they returned to the torn ones,
a light of hope,
to be reunited with love,
and at the end of the night,
he returned to his warm workshop,
where his fabrics waited.
Zacarias, the sewing box,
He did any Wednesday,
his usual tour,
and he found a heart,
that no matter how hard he tried,
I could not repair,
was when then,
decided to take the work home,
and with enormous patience,
with fine silk threads,
and tiny stitches,
He started his task.
it was so much the love that he put,
who inadvertently fell in love,
and at the end of that night,
he just received a smile,
a white kiss on the cheek,
and a little farewell,
who could not resist,
and it ended up breaking his heart.