It`s illegal, occult and masochist
measuring childhood with the adult in me…

The child flies free
through my illusions` thistles of being
and through the moment`s letters he tells me:
“Mama, hush!”

A single “No” in front of ephemeral
shines the night of my life…
And the rest of the moments climb me up to the crude sun
which burns unknowingly
all the bears without blackberries,
the shivered trees
in the blade cutting
forests,
the fairy tales with bluebells
and wild strawberries taste…

Can I save them with my skin, my child,
with the hug that gathers your chirping,
can I?

I know not conjugating love
I haven`t finished learning yet to love you,
I can only seal with it
the color of the moment that I breathe…

To infinite and back I love you still!