I saw how the paper burned with the fire of January, the flames
took those four numbers to its promise drawer. The drawer is full of some
concluded goals, and some broken ones. I was speechless in front of the
chimney, with the intention that the drawer never received any more broken
pieces. I remember the sparks of change in the indigo sky and the stars’ tears.
In what way were the minutes noticed, with a memory with each ring of the bell.
January opened its arms to me with jubilation my coat for the end
of winter. We walked together paraphrasing the words of the awaited, thanking
the sigh of the fourteen at the end of the calendar. We walked until it said
goodbye, introducing me to February. February, dressed in pink and with a
camera in its hand, helped me begin a photo album next to my heart. It
portrayed me with smiles at my sides and intertwined hands. Now, my hands brush
against the pictures going back to that
February disappeared stealthily and I encountered March. The wise
March, who taught me to hold on to the valuable and that the valuable isn't an
object, but a repeated word, a look through the trees and a retained symphony.
April called to my door without warning and fell when coming in, as if it
didn't know how to intertwine its path and mine. Its first gaze was icy,
impassible, a pair of eyes that will never leave my mind. As fast as it had
freeze me, it came to my rescue and its eyes turned blue, like the water it
took me to visit and its teeth white, like the clouds I flied over. Softly, it
guided me towards May, who waited for me in a rock, contemplating how the
flowers were born out of the trees. In that rock we talked about love and its
piece in the puzzle.
June only brushed my shoulder but it was such a strong brush that
it took my breath away, making me forget where I was headed. July unwrapped me,
it made me believe that we are nothing more than actions between gestures and
the sun needs us as much as we need him. August tore me from July’s side and
took me far, very far. However, before taking me he let me wrap the allusions
and put a bow on them, it was fast, even so remarkable.
September had a hard time getting here, with its shyness traveling
in its back. When it reached me, it took me to another world, to unknown
gestures between the green and white. He told me quietly that its next
companions would make me run and jump in this place. It wasn't lying, October
trapped me with its force and planted the future in my path. It was cold, but
not as much as November. Hot chocolate and new faces made themselves present in
the snow of the eleventh month. Before I could grasp it, without warning,
December approached and hugged me, ready to end this year having left a mark on
my skin. Next to its cinnamon breath and green and red look, I write another
paper while the little fire grows.