Abro a porta

Não...
Ou não sei?
Talvez nunca saberei
Que me importa?
Abro a porta...
A brisa entra
Trazendo frescor
À solidão.

                                                                           

Uma pétala de paixão

da janela
                vejo
                      a roseira
                                    rosas
                                            vermelhas
                                                             intensas

uma pétala
                  se desprende
                                         e vaga
                                                    suavemente
                                                                        ao sabor
                                                                                      da brisa

                                               pouco
                                                        depois
                                                         toca
                                                               suavemente
                                                                                   o solo

                                                        paixão
                                                                   que
                                                                        morre
                                                                                lentamente
                                                                                                  pétala
                                                                                por                                pétala

                                     ao sabor
                                                   do medo
                                                                 ou será
                                                                             desprezo?