FUGATA

                                                    Estas são cartas de cristal,

                                                    Bolas de aljôfar.

                                                    Pinguinhos d´água

                                                    No ôco de uma folha

                                                    Em manhãzinha chuvosa.

                                                    Raio de luar,

                                                    O assovio do vento

                                                     E na madrugada serenosa,

                                                     A voz chamando de longe

                                                     Nada mais são

                                                     Que cartas de cristal,

                                                     Fragilidades...

Escrito por Simone/Elf/Rosa do Texas às 18h40
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