I really didn’t expect you in my life. At first, when you were a stranger, I thought your arrival here was the result of a stubborn attitude inherent to your rustic nature. Now that you’ve let me get to know you, I want to express the meaning you’ve given my life. I don’t know how to justify the stupid prejudice that always ruled my existence; I’m not going to lie by saying that when we first met, I didn’t find you inopportune, defiant, out of context. I was mad at you, I’m not going to deny it.
I rejected you because accepting you was out of the question, I thought, when you unexpectedly appeared without any relation existing between us.
I can’t help blaming myself for the insults I enjoyed hurting you with day after day. Standing there in front of you like an imbecile, reproaching you for disturbing this backwater of my tribulations.
How could I be so blind as not to notice what was in you? I certainly didn’t know you. Now I can only say to you from the depths of my soul: I’m sorry, flower. I had no notion of what was what.
It wasn’t until that morning, when the sun invaded my bedroom like a whirlwind and violently, without brooking any protestations, swept me up until I was face to face with you; you seemed like a magical vision that shifted further or nearer as you were blanketed and released by the shadow of the clouds. Fresh drops of dew slowly slid off your face and when absorbed by the earth, gave birth to a velvety carpet inviting me to comfortably contemplate the colorful landscape around us. It all looked beautiful as never before, and it was because of you, who give the place a touch of distinction.
Since that day, when I wake up in the morning, I invite my shadow to accompany me to the window, where I secretly observe the corner where you stand, at a distance, from the garden’s cultivated flowers.
I rejected you because accepting you was out of the question, I thought, when you unexpectedly appeared without any relation existing between us.
I can’t help blaming myself for the insults I enjoyed hurting you with day after day. Standing there in front of you like an imbecile, reproaching you for disturbing this backwater of my tribulations.
How could I be so blind as not to notice what was in you? I certainly didn’t know you. Now I can only say to you from the depths of my soul: I’m sorry, flower. I had no notion of what was what.
It wasn’t until that morning, when the sun invaded my bedroom like a whirlwind and violently, without brooking any protestations, swept me up until I was face to face with you; you seemed like a magical vision that shifted further or nearer as you were blanketed and released by the shadow of the clouds. Fresh drops of dew slowly slid off your face and when absorbed by the earth, gave birth to a velvety carpet inviting me to comfortably contemplate the colorful landscape around us. It all looked beautiful as never before, and it was because of you, who give the place a touch of distinction.
Since that day, when I wake up in the morning, I invite my shadow to accompany me to the window, where I secretly observe the corner where you stand, at a distance, from the garden’s cultivated flowers.
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