There is a tiny
Little flower
That returns
Every year
After the deep frost
Is gone.
She grows back strong
And adorns this place
With its sweet smells
And just for few months
She mades the garden
Her home...
Then winter comes
And that flower
Once again is gone
Her name if you ask me
Is love...sweet love...
The Cycle
Life is a cycle..or better yet, a series of cycles. We must learn to start, and then, to stop. Finish and close all cycles and start new o...
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Today I stop by this little park in my son old school. Long time ago, in this same place, I asked him and his classmates what did they wan... -
I am done with the drama people that run around the world pretending to be who they are not... I am done with the emotional needy... eve...
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se me antoja que la vida es como ellas... pasajera e incierta que nos depara esa nube gris que se acerca lentamente en la distancia? traera ...
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