Little by little
Our walls lose their doors,
Their windows.
We remain alone in our life.
Aged time.
Life grows narrower.
Inside it, the little things
Seem so vast:
The flowers, the murmur.
The little liberties of the evening.
We chose to see
Only what our eyes
Can endure.
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From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem