The Sun, at sunset,
And the landscape that fades into  trembling reds.

His strong hands, and
His others dreams.

Without his clothes,
Maybe he did, the same as always does, over and over.

Thoughts he forgets himself,
his voice and the expressions of his eyes.

A memory, endless echoes of a sweet love,
that began with a casual encounter.

Was   only a moment,
But he never stopped loving him,
His little mouse, as he called.

As the time goes and come back,
He remembers those years and those days.

And that night and that morning,
when he wakes up,
with a kiss on his lips.


He didn't know what to do,
and he never knows what to do,
because in front of the love,
nobody knows what to do,
Never,
Ever.