Se recomienda la cancion de ENYA - WILD CHILD
Memories of a young tree
She was trying to grow up, just a little bit, she wanted to say hello to the eagle that was living in the tree next to her.
The tree has a dream: Fly, high as the eagle until she can reach the moon. She tried everyday and every time she shook her arms and roots, the only thing that happened was that many of her toasted leaves fell down and covered the purple flowers at her roots.
The tree has a dream: Fly, high as the eagle until she can reach the moon. She tried everyday and every time she shook her arms and roots, the only thing that happened was that many of her toasted leaves fell down and covered the purple flowers at her roots.
The window was as cold as your eyes the day I went away...
I know your heart is fearful, but mine it's frozen.
4 comentarios:
Rompamos esta entrada...
¡Primera!
Bueno. Me inspiraste. Gracias.
Me llamó la atención que, desde hace mucho, no escribías en otro color que no fuera morado. Y, curiosamente, esta estrada hace referencia al color como lo inalcanzable.
Digo yo, el verde son sus ventanas, así que se transforman en el camino. El morado ¿es el hogar al qué quieres entrar?
Me encantó la ultima frase...
Ya sé! si de por sí el escrito es increíble, la frase del final me dejo sencillamente inmóvil... TKM sist!
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