There are trips that you do not realize you're doing until you get to where you did not know you were going.

Regards,

Mora Amaro La Loba



I walk
walk
going to the Moon

I wear a skirt
of red flowers
that sway
between the folds
with the dance of my steps
and the swing of my suitcase
full of things
that hide
from each other

I cross halls
and many rooms
with its corridors that without meaning always take you
to some windows scattered between the ridges
of a labyrinth

on my way
way
going to the Moon

I walk
walk
going to the Moon

I wear a skirt
of red flowers
that sway
between the folds
with the dance of my steps
and the swing of my suitcase
full of things
that hide
from each other