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The wind is grabbing

trees outside my window

pushing them like an old man

on a wheelchair




of the surroundings

and the years that they carry on

their branches

they try to enter my space

invade my cosmic galaxy

with dancing leaves

on 13 pieces for a piano

trying to make the season

last longer than it should

but I don’t let them

come closer

I lock the doors

I close the windows

I shut the curtains

and I patiently wait

and I wait

for the first blossomed flower

giving birth to spring

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