Flaming

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.