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Apropos Valentine's Day...some are born from mud, others are born from stones, and both, at the end, will miss that true love desperately searched from the mother's cold bosom until that last moment, when one enters the dark and final tunnel.

Illustration: sketch for a oil painting by the author


He opened the window of his room
the sun presented a landscape alive
he was surprised, living another day,
a bonus dispensed to him by God.

He didn’t remember how many years
love in front of his door had passed,
but the smell of those sweet magnolias
lingered around, like a bride’s whites.

Years on, years out he always thought
that there wasn’t an end of one’s life,
always another tomorrow where to do
what today’s lethargy left much aside.

The last of the snow was gone, Spring,
lovers would renew their vows fortified
with the lose carelessness of youths
believing immortality is made of laughs.

His tired eyes looked just a little farther
than far away, where she was one time,
wearing that cotton dress with a teasing
wind lifting its hem, she was so untried!

Shyly, first flowers like drops of blood,
signs of living upon the unfrozen ground,
thru a sluggish tear rolling on his check
the blurred image of a so distant his love.

Wonder if it will be for him a tomorrow
after so many yesterdays given by God,
wondering if will be granted his final wish
to get that dreamed kiss…before he goes.