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Cantinho do Ceu by Michael Tartàglia, © 2000 |
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Forget the all but enchanting day while arriving home in the greatest mood. The place beneath the sky blazes the view blurred from the comfort guarded from the winter's world. Soon I may lay silent in darker shades of gray, forever looking at snowflakes not falling when the sky of fire is doused, crestfallen. A tender touch is given by what is not seen -- by what has not hands, nor fingers to accuse. What is this presence dismissed in childhood hours, allowing us to play in the cool these flames have given? Just ignorant innocence describes, how, the older one gets, the more time's worshiped? In all that is unchangeable or now can be made that warmth is still there hidden with the frosty air, hinted in the sky a'fire. |
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