Wedged in sheets of a long hot night, the morning we aspired by the smell of black coffee that comes dredge our nostrils, and say he should get out of its torpor, just to finally open their eyes to the day s announcement as a rebirth, with the procession of envy and energy generated by the light that pierces the room. We would like each day is a morning and the day that never pushes the hope of the dawn, never doubt that n'assaille vitality of the sleeper awake.
0 comments:
Post a Comment