Paper dreams

i knead my Sunday dreams on blank sheets and kites that you paint with blossoms of purple, red and white. these walls i build high as to hide the sun, you touch time and turn them to bridges in a while. through that door which i never opened, you send me a lullaby will you sing it again when am lost in the sea of mirrors without a name? will you? In a bubble I blend, to the rhythm of the sun, in shadows I die, to be that rain which could pass the borders and bleed with the earth to regain those leaves where you wrote my name. like those secrets your lip holds, the grains of sands lie dead, shall i hold them as they slip? to make them the roots of a tree that will always remain. the pages have changed to paper boats and planes, just like those dreams you hide in that valley with no wind, shall i call them back, counting every changing shade of seasons to hold your hand at the break of dawn? shall i?

Departure

Walking among woods never did a shepherd found his lost sheep Everything breaks, even a stone, but the mountains couldn't cry, whispered the sky to lend them some rain as they counted clouds touching and leaving away. The hands that cupped to hold a river moved away, and never were the two grains seen, one that slipped away and the other that tried to built a shelter in between the walls of two fingers, two grains of sand attached to one branch no one saw when they met became one and left.