Happiness
I don’t want anyone to corrupt it,
nobody to take it away from me.
I grow it,
hold it tight.
I jump, happy, with joy.
Like a child,
A child that is in me.
All alone,
nobody around.
Because, like every good thing,
like every Important thing,
it’s fragile.
Please, Just let me dream.
Hope, just a bit.
In the end who cares if it’s an illusion,
Or Truth?
Sometimes,
You dream,
You hope,
You love.
Hope for a dream to come true, a wish,
to be loved back, by the person you’ve chosen.
And then we can try,
to make will,
power.
Will is power.
Knowing that what we see in the eyes of each other,
it’s excatly what we think it is.
What we’re looking for.
And maybe, I shouldn’t even telling you all of this,
Because it’s mine.
But this is…
The risk of poetry.
Lo scrittore Volante 