Jan 21
BY THE RIVER BANK
You know that butterflies are the sound of the morning, and when they land on the city windows, they knock on the doors of dreams until the girls' faces shine on a winter morning, as if a forgotten journey had returned home before sunrise. Then I still walk with joy by the river bank, inhaling the very clear air that tells me its stories and interesting adventures.
I see the soft light of his heart shining green, by its bank, where everything sings. How happy I am with those unforgettable moments; they were colorful and soft like the face of the moon. Oh, you, river, how you promised me to show me the touches of soft dreams and to tell me about us every pearl sleeping in the shade and every colorful smile by your quiet bank.
You know that butterflies are the sound of the morning, and when they land on the city windows, they knock on the doors of dreams until the girls' faces shine on a winter morning, as if a forgotten journey had returned home before sunrise. Then I still walk with joy by the river bank, inhaling the very clear air that tells me its stories and interesting adventures.
I see the soft light of his heart shining green, by its bank, where everything sings. How happy I am with those unforgettable moments; they were colorful and soft like the face of the moon. Oh, you, river, how you promised me to show me the touches of soft dreams and to tell me about us every pearl sleeping in the shade and every colorful smile by your quiet bank.
