Monday, January 24, 2011


I imagine the aroma which comes out of the earth while it rains
  that distinct smell which adores the parched soil
 and the land shedding its tardiness of the heat

In moments like these I feel I could still be a child,
 to roll out a paper boat with all my dreams
in a journey never to be finished
and shed all the heaviness which
 the passing years of my age have put me under