O Sol do Correr Muros e Mundos...

                                  Palavras

                                               Palavras
                                               Há um livro
                                               de folhas soltas
                                               numa parede nua
                                               poesia do sentires
                                               palavras são asas
                                               palavras são ventos
                                               que chegam
                                               assim sem avisar
                                               sem hora marcada
                                               que me transportam
                                               para qualquer lugar
                                               E o depois...
                                               quando tu não estás?
                                               Todos dias te caminho
                                               e todos dias te passeio
                                               e nem todos dias te vejo
                                               E as palavras se refazem
                                               assoviam para os deuses

                                               Maria José Sales Calado / 16.01.2019
                                               Foto: MJSC / São Paulo