Through the mist of my mind, which navigates the uncertain waters of fear, and clarity of my mind, I said the same bright northern Siempre, there are impasses, rodeos, flirtations and reluctance, are routine, pasaaaaaaaados, misty horizons.
But alert gives me a star apples and apple glad that shines yonder, I just want the juice, sea bream, although they all shout that inside me is old.
There is no age that I care if it comes to dreams. My fifty ooze on the edge of the verb.
And nothing hidden behind the silent bottles, empty dwellings and feet no way, I impose the mark left by a hiker who was without, even without having been, in my boat, I sail, in my nearby port and in my herb garden.
Because I want to be, because I cross my fingers and winks a cloud, and between our two codes, which come together in silence but the crowds were dispersed, and silence, I got tired of the wall that separates your fingers my skin and tired of the lack of kisses.
just hope theirs, the other, or comfort. My love for the golden apple that shines on me oblfgado fictions without destination or owner. But she has been always I called apple, and now just need to bite my accurate.
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