Poet that you write about what you live, About what you dream of, what you expect Putting your footprints on paper.
You look around you searching the thistles Of unanimous things, sometimes worthless Which have been considered garbage without color.
Your creativity brings life to everything that seems dead and inert. You search in the past, in that trunk where you have always kept
A memory ... maybe of a love Maybe of a pain Maybe of a childhood
You walk on the outskirts ... looking at nature As if searching without answers for something that starts your curiosity, something that helps you start a poetry full of fantasies.
You go in search of your best friend That whitened book that anxiously awaits You to mark its pages again with your footprints.
Suddenly! The light bulb went on! You began to write smiling happily Emptying your subconscious of all those sleeping experiences Which you see dancing in your mind. Becoming a clerk in the present and forever.