I become aware of the passing of time
every time
I look at my hands
automatically I lift my eyes to heaven
maybe in search for help
focused in my thoughts
I let my imagination do its game
I can hear my heartbeat
and the feeble whistle of my breath
I give way to your memory
always present but never so mine
I would like to be the wind
In those moments
impalpable presence
delicate as the scent of grass in bloom
to touch you with impunity
and whisper to your ear
how big is my love
