Slopes of mountains
all colored in orange,
rose grass
the honey from those eyes, light
honey of uneven color
the gold is not so green in the hills
the silver of the train
moon and the star
turquoise ring
atoms all dancing
it's dawn
the fog shimmers
pomegranate colored children
enter the wagon
olive from the gray cloud
being left
behind the morning
and the blue silk of the paper
wrapping the appel
the houses, so green and pink
that go passing as they look us passing by
both window's sides
and that one in a blue tone
almost non-existent, blue that there is not
a blue that is pure memory of somewhere
your black hair
explicit object
brown lips
or to be exact
açaí colored lips
and here, color's train
wise projects:
reach the central
and the sky of a celestial blue