Yesterday he sang excited, laughing with hopeless eyes; while, with hesitations, he imagined roads that were skilfully appropriated or discreet lovers that were deeply in love; without plotting crossroads.
Yesterday, his regrets bit the spiteful black; or, maybe, he remembered guilty enemies, or recognised a sleepy but outgoing enemy.
Yesterday, lovers blackened emerald rivers because they only understood statements denying, with intelligence, wise observations.
Even though they knew that it's never beneficial to whiten black images or obscure, simple smiles; they were like expectant smiles that greeted other smiles crying with a warm, amiable humour.
Sleepless and observing laughing faces were analysed, those flawless images, singing with sobs. So he asks, with green eyes: "laughing, to our blue shoes, hurts or repairs random acts of kindness?"
He continues imagining mysterious statements, thinking, remembering, waiting. Someone laughs, looking at nobody, unconcerned, observing interesting corners over yellow suns.
He imagines that he doesn't know or doesn't keep rancour, while a scarecrow scares frightened clouds that hide between narrow swamps.
Hopeless, he observes acquainted silences, recognisable utopias, noiseless friendships; from a sunset that's skies away from reality.
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