LAST CYCLE © 2008
There are moments that hang in the air,
Suspended in the longing to grasp hearts,
In a farewell of handkerchiefs, like a pilgrimage in prayer,
They weep softly, seeking attention.
Silence embraces, listening to the lament,
From hand to hand, a new breath is born.
They believe in a nation of hope and forgiveness,
And say with faith: "Open, heart".
Sharing is done, with love resonating,
In troubled times, it will never punish.
They are the cornflowers, flowers of devotion,
The father's girls, who receive his protection.
Even if the father is annoying, in his errant way,
He is, deep down, the guardian, vigilant love.
For in the cornflowers, delicate and sensitive,
Lives paternal love, in invisible bonds.