Memory

This story is about a girl in her twenties, maybe closing her thirties,

I couldn’t tell.

Beautiful face, beautiful almond eyes.

Her skin wears this certain mediterranian clarity of a

warm and sunny day at the sea.

Her voice echoes

soothing and steady musical tones

with the promise of a dream with slow, sensual peninsular dances

parked along the colors of some sleeping coast.

I found her crying one day.

So I offered her some water,

no questions, no strings attached,

all I wanted was for her to skip the gray

and into the light.

“No, I’m just fine”, she declined sweetly,

for her moves remind you of the ones who look into the lion’s snout

with the calmness and the immensity of the sea,

with truth of character and graceful smiles.

She walks around having seen the sadness that this world holds,

it seems:

the running, the screaming, the desperate and hopeless.

The bombarded.

Her face I will never forget.

So, I hop onto her side saying that

whenever she wants and, if ever she wants

she can count on me.

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