Open space

I watch the shivering clouds drift by ,

sketching out imaginary continents 

with no borders other than those 

of  my caprice...

 Poetic alchemy of the ephemeral .

I am the ordinary witness of a sorcery 

who holds the key to a parallel universe

where fantasy plays tricks on reason...

 Utopia of a trip to the moon...

It's the first day of summer 

and I haven't been born yet ...

 already filled with nostalgia 

for so many wanderings yet to come ...

As if Vivaldi were painting new seasons .

Or if history were already written 

in a few weather patterns ...

It's the first day of summer .

 when we wish we could hold on 

to our youth forever ...

In memory of you, I'll gather a few fallen leaves,

carving on them, words than cannot be spoken

but offered to the silence of november's sons...

 You should always draw smiles on melancholy 

to forget loneliness ...

 I am waiting for you on this imaginary continent

where I walk on clouds in open space ...