MORNINGS

Where have you been, girl, even for awhile,
that you don't bring your shining smile
to brighten my morning, in your style?

Where have you been, woman, in the high society
that you don't come as usually, quietly,
leaning on a look that hugs me without hugging
and kisses me without kissing? Still hugging?...

Where did you go, girl, trailing lost thoughts
in sleepless nights, strange doors for your knocks,
missing someone and wanting to find the hots
at least a place to be saved with the dawn, after your knocks?

Where is my sketch, my attempt to write a poetry.
Where I scribble my drawing, to make you, girl, feel free.
Alive with happiness?... Flying from tree to tree.
You, woman, who leaves me every night, day after day.
Coming back in the morning to illuminate my day?...

Where did you go, girl, trailing lost thoughts
in sleepless nights, strange doors for your knocks,
missing someone and wanting to find the hots
at least a place to be saved with the dawn, after your knocks?

Where is my sketch, my attempt to write a poetry.
Where I scribble my drawing, to make you, girl, feel free.
Alive with happiness?... Flying from tree to tree.
You, woman, who leaves me every night, day after day.
Coming back in the morning to illuminate my day?...

Coming back in the morning, all the mornings?...
Oh! Yes… Back in the morning, all the mornings?...
Yes, yes, yes… in the morning, all the mornings?...