Yo, la noche,
el tiempo y los relámpagos
aguardamos
tu pelo, tu risa,
tu costumbre,
esa proyección sobre cosas,
imperio del caos que te distingue,
ausente del pasado que te nombra.
Yo y el viento,
la bruma, la nostalgia,
dudas y tormentos
que te aguardan.
Viajero de un tiempo sin arenas,
mensajero de un caracol denàcat
cayendo del pasado
hasta mi alma.
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Esos versos están llenos de olvido y de nostalgia. Me gustó. ¡Saludos!
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Sumamente certero tu comentario, me acompaña la musa del olvido. Gracias por leerme
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