farà pupa... ¿?

Un relat de: nina

mama…

avui estic alhora feliç i trista.
feliç per que sé que aviat et veuré els ulls i sentiré la teva veu dolça, molt més clara que des d'aquí dintre… i sabré quina olor fa el papa.
i trista, per què em temo que tot això farà pupa, a estones.

crec que tu ja tens pupa i ens han dit que es moment de descansar per esperarar el gran moment...
quins nervis...
friso per conèixer de quin color són els núvols
i si les nits són tant formoses com m'imagino.
tinc unes ganes bojes de mirar-vos a tots amb els ulls ben oberts,
mentre em mireu i us miro, amb cara de curiositat i d'espantada,
com nina que arriba a l'indret més desconegut....
mentre entre vosaltres us pregunteu a qui m'assemblo,
mentre aneu imaginant com perfilarem tots tres el meu futur.
ho desitjo tant, tot plegat.... però també em fa por sortir d'aquesta casona calentoneta que m'abraça.
I sortir de tu.
.... m'ajudaràs eh?


fins ara… mama.... tinc son,
...demà serà un altre dia...


nini.

Comentaris

  • La pupa s'oblida... queda el somriure![Ofensiu]
    Unaquimera | 23-01-2008 | Valoració: 10

    Un relat ple d'encant... de petits detalls que desfilen suaument per davant la mirada de la lectora, que no pot menys que deixar anar un somriure en llegir-ho.

    Ben fet! I fins un altre dia...

    T'envio una abraçadeta suau,
    Unaquimera

l´Autor

nina

43 Relats

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Valoració de l'autor: 9.78

Biografia:
So here I am once more in the playground of the broken hearts
One more experience, one more entry in a diary, self-penned
Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
Too late to say I love you, too late to re-stage the play
Abandoning the relics in my playground of yesterday
I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing on the roundabouts
I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing on the roundabouts
Too much, too soon, too far to go, too late to play, the game is over
T the game is over

So here I am once more in the playground of the broken heart
I'm losing on the swings, losing on the roundabouts, the game is over, over
Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
I'm losing on the swings, losing on the roundabouts, the game is over
Too late to say I love you, too late to re-stage the play
The game is over

I act the role in classic style of a martyr carved with twisted smile
To bleed the lyric for this song to write the rites to right my wrongs
An epitaph to a broken dream to exercise this silent scream
A scream that's borne from sorrow

I never did write that love song, the words just never seemed to flow
Now sad in reflection did I gaze through perfection
And examine the shadows on the other side of the morning
And examine the shadows on the other side of mourning
Promised wedding now a wake

The fool escaped from paradise will look over his shoulder and cry
Sit and chew on daffodils and struggle to answer why?
As you grow up and leave the playground
Where you kissed your prince and found your frog
Remember the jester that showed you tears, the script for tears

So I'll hold our peace forever when you wear your bridal gown
In the silence of my shame the mute that sang the sirens' song
Has gone solo in the game, I've gone solo in the game
But the game is over
Can you still say you love me...
/(script for a jester's tear- Marillion)

en Lèvingir, Jb i Aurincon_Kuu em van encadenar, pero jo no soc capaç de seguir la cadena!! Please que alg'u em passi les intruccions per una nina torpe!!!

mail:ninaensucrada@hotmail.com
a veure per quan recuperem les ganes de penjar nous relats....