Not enough time

leave you,
I’ll come back when I’ve put down the bird’s song on paper;
loaded up the clouds with good news,
cloned the power of giving life,
deciphered the content of an etcetera,
learned history from an old man’s gaze,
captured dew enough to make an ocean,
or until the voice of command tears me away from the impious keyboard,
with a punctual reminder it’s my turn to make the supper.​

 

Lástima o por suerte no sé inglés. Tampoco es de mi interés. Te felicito por entenderlo y escribirlo, es un mérito.
Abrazos

 

Gracias por tus letras