You are, my dearest son, the rainbow of my downpour: Red as the rivers of my veins, brown as the sand you will caress, yellow as the sun shining on my felicity, green as a tree that gives me vivacity, purple as the advent of your arrival, orange as a fruit not worth of denial, white as the everlasting light of your sight, black as the womb, your lovely homeland, pink as the soul of your beloved mother, gray as the sky when I dedicate you my poems. May these colors perpetuate your days for black and white life should not be, you are then called to paint the murky ways with the paintbrush that will set you free.
Blog de historias cortas y poemas