My grandmother,
Ten Juana Bermudez
elusive street your steps
the facade of the old house but
back to your profile
colony braided hair
the hollow of your arms
back to the warm milk in the afternoon
and want to sleep and wake up your eyes
nothing is lost
when the memory is not enough
never understood that farewell
alien face you put
so many people and nobody
and you and I
without tears
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