What she told me...

Smell of Strawberries

Cinnamon, strawberries

Some white window

And the old mirror that haunts

The freedom to be yourself

It will cost you some privileges

And you will also know how to remember them

With love

But there is something about your indomitable nature

That does not need crumbs of fresh figs,

Prefers papayas straight from the trees and flowers

With the color of freshly moved earth

And the water everywhere belongs to you

And it defines you

Remember,

Even if it hurts sometimes

And it scares you,

Give your soul the right to sow you.