A Chlid

A Chlid

A child
It unhooks you a dream
It brings it to your lips
And it leaves singing
A child
With a bit of chance
It hears the silence
And it cries diamonds
And it laughs
To not know what
to do with it
And it cries
Seeing us cry
It fells asleep
With gold on the eyelids
And it sleeps
To help us dream

A child
It listens to the blackbird
That puts its pearls
On the stave of the wind
A child
It's the last poet
Of a world that persists
In wanting becoming big
And it asks
If clouds have wings
It worries
Of a snow fallen
And it fells asleep
With gold on the eyelids
And it guesses
That there ain't
fairies anymore
But a child
And we run from
the childhood
A child
And we become passer-by
A child
And we become patience
A child
And we are past