Acalanto
 
                                             Velo teu sono
                                             de prata,
                                             homem cheiroso
                                             de mar...
                                             Em meio sorriso,
                                             já despido do dia,
                                             no futuro
                                             ou no passado,
                                             estás a sonhar.
                                             Barba
                                             por fazer,
                                             acomodas a cabeça
                                             em meu colo.
                                             Acalanto a paixão
                                             que nos cerca,
                                             enquanto te
                                             entregas
                                             ao simples gesto
                                             de esquecer
                                             nuvens e aço.
                                             Mas acordo,
                                             esfrego os olhos e vejo
                                             que quem sonhava
                                             era eu,
                                             longe de ti,
                                             em vertigem...
                                             Mulher passarinho,
                                             sem asas para voar.
                                                            
                                          
                                             11/02/2008
                                             Um dos meus primeiros rabiscos
                                             que resgatei da "lixeira".
                                             Imagem do google