Finally I became the spot that was lost in the eyes of the lover.
That little tiny figure that distinguish my semblace from others.
Finally I could be remembered in the soul of a significant other before I cross the bridge again.
Not the yellow lights neither the length of my hair got to be used as the brand of inspiration.
Nor my dreamer smile that echoed the traveler and hunted some people's mind.
Nor my work hard spirit or my trascendant gestures which some souls use to named as kind.
Just that little freckle right below my chicks that transform the life of a careless man into a melodic piece.
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PoetryHere you can find short stories written like poetry about little kids thoughts, girl dreams, things in life and how people describe love.
