I am not a Saint nor the perfect woman Seatting nicely at the table, perfectly trained to talk properly, behave like a lady and sound like one...
My days are hectic, running errands, working hard and trying to keep my head above the water...
I make mistakes, poor costly choices that break me in pieces and I put myself together with crazy glue( figuratively speaking) I am the best description of imperfection. Therefore, is not my place to judge, thus I forgive.
Bilingual Blog about poetry, short stories and some random pondering about life, culture and love as I understand it.
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Breaking Water
Motherhood is like that winter storm When everything comes to a halt And no one knows what to expect And things are done, when they are don...
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Listen to the silence That speaks about the goodbye That we never said... Listen to the footsteps That sneak into our souls And scare t...
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Listen, just listen to the hours They are trying to tell you something...
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To the music...the sensous rythm...the words wrotten by an excentric poet...it brings so many memories...of family reunions...special times ...
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