I have this way of waking up
I fill my senses with the scent of spring time
I wonder if, left alone for a while,
I will begin to grow flowers from my skin
And if they will be as beautiful as my memory is
I listen to daybreak’s sweet delusions
Blurred in a rose-colored candor
And cultivated in a cooling soil

I open my eyes

It is not springtime
It never will be, again
I rise from my grave and I walk
Phantom petals falling in my wake

When I was young  and time was infinite
I was spontaneous,impulsive, impatient.
Now I am older
and life is precious
and timeless becomes time
with an end in sight.
Love becomes more visible.
I am adventurous,
pensive and patient,
riding the next dream
into a timeless future.

Why do you worry so much?
You are so young,
Well, that's my biggest worry
being young.

What else is there to say, though? Time has spoken and will continue to speak. Why do I need to be upset? Let life to unfold as it pleases.

I also get sun exposure.
Everyone can see me clearly.
Human sight makes distinctions, not light

There is a bustle to claim life as our own everywhere.
However, the spirit of life has abandoned us and disappeared.

A flower on a vine!
Even when no one is looking, smiling!
The tall, haughty trees nearby cannot see it.
The flower shines brighter than the obscurity that the thick trees surrounding it create, even if the Sun's rays only kiss it late in the day.

Trying to get it is a sure way to lose it.