The curtain falls on the day:
a soft evening fabric,
while the air of silk
tickles the colors children
of a pinwheel.
Flowers dream the horizon in chorus,
rooted in the land of the same vessel.
In a glass the sunset is reflected,
Thinking we can touch him.
I remember that far away,
between the plots of the white walls of the houses,
you could see the sea.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/349268720-288-k654581.jpg)