The breeze ran through my face, waking her from inner dreams lived. The finger of dream come along my face and died in the kiss I gave him.

The smile happens golden, as cornfields of summer winced a thrill, when the bodies sweated like crazy fantasies as waves in a rough sea that sometimes comes and goes.....

The fat moon launched its veil of moonlight, involving the hearts and making them in a only one, in that eternity.

Jorge d'Alte