Poem — Open Book
Published in
2 min readMay 25, 2024
I keep all the stories,
That over these years you left me.
I became a homing pigeon,
When I still didn’t know how to fly.
Here they fly with me,
Like a gentle sway,
The stories,
The memories,
Even by far,
So as not to slip away.
You know that I look at the immensity of the horizon,
Every day, to follow you.
It’s impossible to look at you and not smile.
After all,
You’re like an emblem,
Whoever read it already knows you,
You appear in almost all of my poems.
