Pellicano

They rustle with the wind, I hear them moving, the leaves of my house. I close my eyes and think about what is good in my mind, in my soul, in what connects me to you. But when did I start this branch? When did I decide to stop here? It reminds me of the leaves in my house. The feathers take on new colors here, I can't see them, they keep changing and my thoughts don't travel among the trees of the forest and arrive at the desert of black masks, they arrive at the river of reason, a mask that laughs with its teeth over its eyes. It is a branch that makes me fly.