Rose and Silver

Rose and silver

Sulked in a corner of the wall,
supporting that clouds were dark and heavy
they were falling down from sky.
She was lovely, half silver, half color rose,
anxious for the winds
and ready for life.
But, the pleasant sun was supporting a cold war against storms
and she remained closed in herself and for the world,
in a sadness that was doing pity.
The moon arrived, bringing cheerful laminated and when they were colored,
nestled in the extremities of a parasol,
making her still more beautiful.
She whirled around, whirled around and laughed,
appreciating the movement colors.
And for the hands of the brown girl,
gained the avenue and danced for the stars,
in it rises and goes down deliriously and rhythmically.
Drunk of dawned glories,
tired and forgotten
in an desertion.
The rain fell, then, blotting shades,
dripped discolored in the streets.
Street-sweepers came and gathered the party remains.
The day could still catch sight
worried movements, silver and color of rose,
shaking slope lower,
beside a last sob of a bottle of beer.

HSS