In the midst of the night,
When Hypnos is busy elsewhere,
I stand over my tiny diary,
And pour my mind on its pages,
Wishing to fill the voids,
Make sense of what doesn't.
Letters asking, how is my love?
It begins with blinding, bright lit skies,
Happy chirps as a constant melody,
A warmth pleasing my dreaming ojitos,
Begging to be explored, trusting certainty.
Colours quietly change, evolve,
A lovely feeling, delicately diving
Through the complex layers,
Probing the depths of a fascinating soul.
Clouds seem to appear slowly,
The kinds that softly kiss the sun,
Shading mortal lovers,
For an unnoticed minute.
Nights seem to show up earlier,
Shining skies taken for granted,
Gradually grow further, colder,
And yesterday used to feel brighter.
Delicately growing colder,
Until it finally vanishes,
Before one can realise,
Sunny and joyful gardens,
Became dark and gloomy,
A realm covered in ice,
Missing the chemistry
That once felt natural.
It seems words just painted
Autumn,
Winter is glowing on the horizon,
As lights fade away, frozen,
Y my corazón se pone triste,
Contemplando mi ciudad.