you fly with your wings
navigating in the air
with the control of your hands
wearing the four stripes

waving in the air, telling the world
that the time has come
and you are ready to soar up high

The wheels touched Charles de Gaulle
and found yourself in the night of Porto,
sipping red wine just beside the coast
that covers the face of a man from the fog of yesterday’s memory

The flight from Toronto and the girl who gave a beam from the Pearson’s gate, disappeared

you walked the cobbled street that lead you back to your hotel room, opening the balcony

you just couldn’t stop looking at the setting sun, and the birds that goes along the melody of a piano you played on the background.