In the depths of your gaze, laden with sorrow, I find the raw material for my verse. I mold your pain into words, weaving a tapestry of poetry that is meant for you alone. Your weathered hands, marked by the relentless passage of time, I offer mine as a gentle reprieve, a sanctuary of solace. Upon your lips, tinged with bitterness, I bestow the gift of flowers, a reminder that your name evokes the essence of a beautiful day.

In these moments, I speak of hope, cradling you in the embrace of the night, adorning you with the tapestries of your dreams. I herald the coming of spring, weaving the fabric of your love into the very fabric of my being, so that I may touch your life with the vistas and imprints of my existence. I herald the tomorrows, a vibrant spectacle of new colors that will paint the world when you once again become the poem, flourishing within me.

© Beatriz Esmer