Marisa barefoot

When he looked at the clock,

Ten years had passed,

ten sentences, ten sighs,

and a song without choruses.

Surrounded by countless books,

she had fallen asleep,

between the swirl of words,

and the stories that were not his;

It took a beginning, it took an end,

Believing that I could,

before dawn,

develop your own imprint

Nobody was waiting for her,

nobody expected

He made a low flight,

about the origin of their heartbeats,

and how his heart behaved,

as an eternal teenager,

between solar explosions,

and serene lunar plains,

traced their insecurities,

on the sea of ​​his thoughts.

He put on his face a little,

To welcome you,

with his most radiant smile,

to the designs of destiny,

although intimately,

I did not fully believe in him.

Again he saw the clock,

that stopped his walk without warning,

as giving him the blessing,

to be responsible for your time.

He took some of his books,

a pencil and a blank paper,

He stood on a coffee table,

and without further ado, he began to fly.