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by SPEAK SPEAK
1

Yo el parpadeo
de las luces que , a lo lejos ,
van marcando mi .
Son las mismas que ,
con sus pálidos reflejos ,
hondas horas de .

2

Y aunque no el regreso ,
siempre se al primer amor ;
la vieja calle donde el eco :
" Tuya es su vida , tuyo es su querer " ,
bajo el burlón mirar de las estrellas
que , con indiferencia , hoy me ven .

3

, con la frente marchita ,
las nieves del tiempo mi sien .
Sentir que es un soplo la vida ,
que años no es nada ,
que febril la mirada , errante en las sombras ,
te y te nombra .
, con el alma aferrada
a un dulce
que lloro otra vez .

4

del encuentro
con que vuelve
a enfrentarse con mi .
Tengo miedo de las ,
que , de recuerdos ,
encadenan mi .

5

Pero el viajero que ,
tarde o temprano su andar ;
y aunque el olvido , que todo ,
haya matado mi vieja ,
guardo escondida una esperanza ,
que es toda la fortuna de mi .

6

Volver , con la frente ,
las del tiempo platearon mi sien .
Sentir que es un la vida ,
que veinte años no es ,
que la mirada , errante en las sombras ,
te busca y te .
Vivir , con el aferrada
a un recuerdo
que lloro otra .

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