Portrait

Voices from the past echo in my mind:

I see the child coming back,

I perceive the soft colors of the afternoons

And the languid glow of the days by gone.

It's a flight of the soul

In corridors which time has vanished,

Behind doors which time has mysteriously closed.

I allow myself the gesture of return:

I pretend to be there

Knowing that in reality the child is gone.

Gone her tears, gone her laughter,

Gone her childish vanities.

In her place, the woman stands,

A composition of colors, faith and dreams.

The fear she turns to God.

The laughter she keeps in her soul.

The childish vanities she slowly lets go while she avidly builds up the future

empowered by all of the dreams from her past.

Sandra Rodrigues