Of simple waits without a clock.
Of stubborn heads without sound.
Of jaded elderly without voice.
Battles of clay.
Of tanned skins without rest.
Of agitated currents without backwater.
Of feigned evenings without totter.
Yours, mine …
those of every sunrise …
The ones you hide,
what you relate,
what you do not always regret,
and of which in the end,
you will always learn.
to lose is to earn.