all feels so pointless
so gray
and so boring...
tired like my old shoes
sleepy like my over-used pantuflas
now that the physical pain is gone
seems that a strange indifference
has taken over me and lately
sophomoric dreams are one-sided
and lonely
if you were to knock at my door
one splendid night!
oh lovely surprise
it would be
to mix my little home
and your smiles
but, no surprises
no furtive messages
another long night alone
again, boring...
yet i still wait
for a coming morning
even if nothing
even if empty
even if lonely
because
in the mornings
at least there's the aroma of coffee
i have survived 38 years
with and without little disappointments
not even sun rays are always there
but one can make her own coffee
that scares away this
my self aromas of loneliness
