The last poem
This is the last poem that I write, whether I will not think of you I will go after the shadow of a memory with a thought and a final.
Today lowered the curtain of a last function, props, clothes of apprentice, Studio lights have today been and everything has been in darkness.
Within my there is a pain immeasurable, incomprehensible, irresistible, it is a regret that I can not resist to my bones, my soul and even my own spirit may not contain within my being.
He stressed today your name for the last time, with the ink from my pen, chalk board, and my childhood crayon.
I am sad, very sad, that to write you for the last time, I am missing forces to sustain the heart, so my tears do not with ink from the pen.
Today you say goodbye, will not listen to your voice, look at your eyes, and touch your hands, I would like to tell you that this my soul at rest, never more you extrañare… but I can not, my soul, my heart and my own life, are linked to you.
I decided to drop the rope, let run time, that time I dreamed off mine, that hope that only rose with the tip of my fingers, as the eyes of a child with eyes sad as her mother moves away, it was just a dream from which I never wanted to wake up.
My desire and my hope went as fog in the morning, when the rays of the Sun touch the window, and the night disappears and returns to sleep, as the Moon moves and longs for return.
My hands tremble, my eyes drown, I would like to write you and goodbye, I would like to leave this boom and break this paper but not puedo…, that you were, you are and will be, my mind, my heart and my soul.
This is the last poem that I write.
teachers day poems