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Poem

I was a teenager, standing at the gate of a dream universe,
dressed in a white dress, flowing like rivers of milk from fairy tales,
watching how the sky melts like summer ice cream and lets its pearls fall,
whispering as if the soul of the world would listen to its quiet and melancholic song.
I remember that day with the clarity of an old mirror,
as if my eyes had always been windows to a world of velvet and gentle light.
Nothing happened, no story to tell,
just me, my dress like an angel's wing, the wind whispering and the rain like a blessing.
My dress was just smoke, a dream, but the rain,
its touch was a silk caress, a secret dialogue with my heart.
I felt wrapped in a deep stillness, like a sleeping ocean,
as if the earth itself had been my friend,
telling me that no star is too far away.
That day rests in my memory like a flower pressed between the pages of time,
like an old film stopped on a scene of fragile and eternal beauty.
The feeling I thought was lost,
the memory I thought was buried in the sand of oblivion—
I felt them again today, like a sweet ghost, returned from the shadow of dreams.
The sky poured slowly, like a wave embracing the shore,
its distant thunder was a whale's song, a murmur of the universe,
and for a moment, I let myself be carried on its wings of dreams.
That peace returned like a warm light at dawn,
but only for a breath, a sigh,
before sliding back into the realm of forgotten shadows.

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