Mystery

That milky white horse of grandma, She used to tell at night on sleeping bed, With a pair of long silvery wings Often comes spreading the long wings To pick me up on its back to you And a thrilling flight above the smoky clouds , That lets to measure the joy of happiness in the blue of tranquility. In some discrete moments I appear on the canvas of Leonardo da Vinci And gradually I lost myself in that mysterious smile, The same mystery I meet everywhere in disguise , Even when I stand in front of a mirror, A chapter starts turning its pages rather than showing my image. Never I do, when walk amongst people Only to feel the chaos of their hearts What been muffled beneath the rib cage. It is a quite surprise how ears grasp taciturn feelings While chortle of laughter slips out.