A swallow landed on my window with an early chirp.
To wake me up and take me out of my doubts.
And so, she frequented in the dawn.
Distrustful and fragile but persistent to tell me.
She chirps about the distances she has flown.
She caressed me in her soul.
I'm glad she stopped by again.
In his little black tailcoat, mourning for past times.
She talked to me, her patient interlocutor,
who grieves over endured burdens.
On a distant island, like a lonely lighthouse.
22 febbraio 2024
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