And I let go of that memory of you
The music of the heart consumes the photo in my soul.
She hides in blooming meadows and asks for forgiveness,
forgiveness for not being there,
for not having seen herself, for not having accepted the parts of herself …
She had closed the door of the eyes and sewed the mouth of the heart in the hope of finding herself elsewhere.
Nothing has passed in vain.
She has walked the ladder of her notes,
She has designed a new score and sent a signal to life
As long as she returns to where she had always been, there in her heart.