When children die, they become birds of heaven. I sat my children free.
The sun woke him up kissing his soft lips as she embraced him with warmth to say I love you, his colourful sheets tied his young body forbidding him to leave, the pigeons made love to him through his window with their beaks, untying himself he walked up to the pigeons and they flew lightly, the sea stared at the depth of his eyes with admiration.
He decided to greet the morning with a smile that made the crumbled bread on the Rambla street goes toast. He lived a day with the roses trying to catch his scent, with the country laying paths of glory for him to walk on, with the dancing birds around his head and the sky above him changed her colours when the sun buried herself in red.
The moon then came jealous playing the Moonlight Sonata on his flawless skin to keep him up until his seductive dreams pulled him in saying – “My turn” in thirst for life.
Those Trees took off their orange gowns to put on silky green. Those roses; the sleeping beauties, have worn their sensational perfume and blushed their velvety cheeks. The moon danced the pavane on my river living a love fantasy.
The river broke waves to greet him in a beautiful rhythm creating music along with the rose-breasted grosbeaks which refused to sleep. When he arrived, stars threw their selves beneath his feet for they are unworthy to compete with his eternal glow.
His light defeated the darkness of the night and his vivacious laugh poured on nature to comfort her mourning soul. He blew kisses in the air and they flew like butterflies in a dream and the inspiration roses have tried to collect them like pieces of fine poetry.
All that nature needed from those deep honey wells of heaven is a glad gaze, a gaze that would make her feel loved enough to grow beautifully till she dries of longing for a second date.