How soon I am late…
to sit by your side…
to recite poems to you…
not getting tired of giving you courage…

To tell you a thousand times,
how much I love you,
how much I long for you,
how  good awaits us…
on this coveted journey…

To laugh in unison,
by imitating those stories…
on those afternoons of April and fog…
and morning waves…

To plan our trips,
of sandwich and blanket,
of lost maps…
of travel without luggage…

How soon you are late…
with your impatient sharp pen,
and your new exemplary life…
full and covered of approaches…

How soon it is too late…