Leonell EchaAugust 11, 20201min8000
It’s harmattan in February
Flowers ashen and freeze
Tongues flood bridges
The bed weighs heavily on one side
And lovers hold their quarrel.
Count the moments that lead to silence
The volcanoes that erupt must not solidify to mountains
Do not throw rocks only light weighted pebbles
The dust that rises is pertinent,
A crescendo of the final settlement.