The immaturity of youth,
the roses of love; a large bouquet,
the riches of bankruptcy,
tunes and notes of an air instrument in sync.
Stalks of corn, each kernel a potential popcorn,
the Loud yelling of an individual always correct.
Joyful play of the puppets dancing and mocking.
Curiosity, discovery, anatomy.
Four notes to a beat,
Eight notes in an eighteenth,
Let's make a rhythm.
Let's make a song,
for my final requiem.
by Ergacia Ortjillo