I remember when a boy stole tangerines
golden roundness that a sweet neighbor
He took care of my claws, my killer claws
as who cares while not ruining life.
I dodged in the nap the slight ligustrine
bribing your dog with leftovers
and entered the land of Dona Catalina
who slept his sleep behind heavy curtains.
I raised my treasure and climbed the oak
later with a whistle he warned Cristina
and we ate together and she sometimes laughed
with transparent laughter and aquamarine glare.
I whistle every once in a while to see what happens
although they cut down the holm oak so many years ago
and although I do not believe it sometimes I feel laughter
and a perfume in the air like tangerines.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)