Blue birds

Blue birds

They have their very own

Burdens

They sometimes

Forget to smile

But still there is a

Special light in colors

Or on the walls

And the wheel thing starts again

Blue birds they have their very own

Inks

Sometimes they dry

And they suffocate

Sometimes they flow

In their blood stomach and throat

And then their pupils dilate themselves

And their hands shake

A little bit faster—awkwardly

Blue birds they have their very own

Fantasies

One is from Andalusia

The other one is English

They whistle

Sometimes it’s bitter

Sometimes it’s sweet

Blue birds they have their very own

Friendship

Sometimes they’re goofy

Sometimes they’re pretty melancholic

Blue birds

They have their very own adventure

A few know the bound

A few take it seriously

But the blue birds they don’t care

They step forward and backward

Like hesitant Polaroids

Melting under some

Spectacular lemon trees

Waiting for the wind

To take their souls

Away.