© by Beatriz MP
I keep walking on the streets in the city of sun,
where the sound of the waves is my music to run
Cranberries in the land of my favorite band.
The saltwater air climbs the hills and takes my hand.
The smell of breakfast around the houses,
the gentle look of the friendly horses.
Struggling to keep melancholy as a sweet memory,
in the blank sheets of my paper diary.
Every morning boats of oats are floating in my mind,
since my first trips they were a treasure to find.
Now I can´t imagine a destination
without my only and true salvation,
but I can hope for a real connection...
just following my own direction.