I am like the days
a new tune of perfection
in Spring,
where blue jays give birth
to the lullaby that radiates my heart;
beating to be found
a treasure in the curve,
to be explored by his hands,
let him not mold,
but show the world
what I can be,
what was, and is
or will be done.
Explained by words
yet my skin is a delicacy
that is never known,
with the shift of memories
[ unforeseen
the world will paint me
but never dry ]
I look to mirrors
asking reflections what they think
on clouded days,
I should clean away:
for I've never truly seen in the eyes
of myself,
the shapes that conjure from an atmosphere
but I'd kiss them,
and smile for a change
to be new.
Gold trophy winner
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