ONÍRICO PASEO...

It is sad the evening
and gathers sadness
the already fading light
behind the curtains.

It is sad your father's photograph
so long now the silence
of his voice, so tangible
his irrefutable absence.

It is sad the stillness
of the children's empty room,
and the photo of theirs with their mother,
despite the smiles.

It is sad the kitchen
cleaned, and the obstinate
humming of the dishwasher.

the books are sad
slept on the shelves,
and sad are their pages
which my eyes yearn for,
which my eyes someday
went through,
their words now all forgotten.

It is sad this piece of sky
which the window frames,
caught in it self
like a palindrome.

It is sad the endless avenue
where empty dwells,
and the amber light of twilight
waists its beauty.

It is sad the rock awaiting
unfflappable
at the foot of the hill
with the prime ray
of tomorrow.