Poem Donado Osorio Hugo Leon
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
What If I Put Milk In My Keurig
I return from my journey through the years, I look
downhill the landscape of my areas,
there is my beloved people
sliding at the depot outside of my memories, decrepit
afternoon.
Seeking their blocks the bucolic beauty
extravagant fantasy that moves me,
stunned by my attitude of visitors foreign,
unusual, excessive, contemplative and cruel.
Things have changed.
Love remove my visor
realizing the presence of my mother
shrunk on the threshold of the door, waiting
the hero of his life that I am.
an entourage with her submissive interminable reception.
leader, who will change things, the deliverer ...
that I'm still me.
The study, the urban, ...
said Garden flowers arranged in a vase without cravings ever,
the soft snow-white tablecloth exposure
sweet smell of broth and cilantro,
and especially their mother's hands, scented proud.
While I: remote, abstracted from that life,
Honored with a red flower drowning in my throat.
Donado Osorio Hugo Leon
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