When things go wrong, I approach her, she's close and look into your eyes. She has two beautiful blue eyes, I've never seen anyone else look crossed so far. I talk to even. Can not understand me, but it makes me feel better. Then maybe that's not true that can not understand me, because when there are heated discussions in the house and hot, is still on the threshold of the room-the battlefield. And look, peers, expression with a question mark of a disarming sweetness. If I cry, then you put beside me, silent but part of it. Perhaps that silence says a lot more of what they can say people with their chatter, their buzz, they talk about everything and anything alike.
In these days when we are alone, I often wonder if by chance you're bored. I dedicate myself to you as soon as possible, from one page to another, a commission and the other a plant to water and the other. But I have the impression that she really is to take care of me. Calls me several times to get up in the morning, as if afraid he might wake up and keep going to lose precious time to study or whatever. If you spend the morning on the terrace, with open books under the sun for a little skin color and the illusion of being on a deserted beach, she's there with me. Hot, has a crazy hot, I realize why it moves constantly change position every five minutes, looking for a slice of shade not yet warmed by his presence. But still there and falls asleep. Lunch joins me in the kitchen and so does suppertime. When returning after being out, waiting for me at the gate of the house style mom in apprehension. Today I had fallen asleep on the couch at about 19. I opened my eyes suddenly, convinced that he heard a noise or you have dreamed of something strange. None of this, there was simply her beside me, waiting for my wake. It must have been the strength of his gaze. Except that sometimes, indeed, when looking at me with those blue eyes, I wonder if you're bored. What should I play it more, even if it has a certain age and a markedly vivace.O anything but I should talk more, be more than friends. If only I could, I dive into that sea blue and peek inside his little head to know what to think, if you think something. He may have a clear idea about each family member, I know. Maybe there would have to do a tot of laughter. Perhaps more likely, find nothing of what I imagine. Why have all those eyes seemed to hide some kind of mystery ..
Post wrote on June 30, 2007.
0 comments:
Post a Comment