WIND

At my door

It comes in without permission

It rushes through the open cracks

Directs itself without a vision

 

In my kitchen

It sneaks in through my broken window

It invites the napkins to a dance of freedom

Scatters them for a game of limbo

 

In my backyard

It interrupts my big, brown trees

It undresses their dried, parted branches

Plays around with all their leaves

 

In my presence

It fights my clothes to depart my figure

It caresses my sweaty skin

Refreshes what the heat triggers

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