Wealth of dreams,
you are,
you and I
I cut a piece
and keep it in your pocket,
they may serve me
whenever
to remember that the most beautiful dream
in me and it was hard,
and
rain or the sun
do not care,
of sadness or joy infinite
no question.
A rock
in the water
of my life, wherever
might
but you,
property,
waves let you get wet ,
to bring you
or eliminate
you my love.
And I certainly do not know
cut
which piece of you.
If your hands, to touch
you touch,
or feet,
to hear your steps, if
eyes
to watch
where to look
or hair,
because only I can touch them.
A serving
my verses
except to give me life?
What servon
words, if
not to give me air?
Yet one day I read
a slave of a love
is the man who already writes
otherwise
dies.
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