POEMA 51

WEEKS

In the time of a week
I’m going to stay weak
Last weak was gold
Like I’ve never been told

I’m capable to lie
I’m winged ´cause I fly
Fly with me to heaven
Week days are seven

I was happy in all
Now I’m sad and I fall
I feel dumb and cry
Please give me one more try

Weeks we’ll have ´till we want
Why you and me don’t?

(3/3/2005)