Drops on the Paper

Warm goes far away from this hands

and heart wants to feel another flame...

how? 

This place is isolated from the noises

and I only see some houses and the rain covering the landscape;

two old men talking about who knows what

and, well, my wet clothes.

This isn't the moment for that.

I must to back home,

I'll enjoy the road and I'll follow laughing of my rare ideas.