It is morning again, I say,
Look at the bright and fast day,
The city is moving in the roads,
And destiny is working its destined way.
A tired humming bird returns to its nest,
On the bosom of the horizon,
A fatigue-worn red sun takes rest,
Like a baby, innocent and mildly vulnerable,
You gently sink into my chest.
Untouched by the city and its ways,
A benign smile and breathing at calm pace,
Wrapped like a gift in purple blanket,
You sleep besides me and my life finds an humble base!
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