Poems in honor of my mother - 2 [ENG]

As I talk with my mother, in search of her memories and her experiences, the story of her life is recreated in my imagination expressing itself in poetry.

Only the physical figure remains, but the spirit of the beloved is gone.

You look like a sudden cyclone, aimless.

You're groping like a blind man with his lost cane.

You go around like a urchin, disoriented, looking for the stream of its protector.

Where is the sun that illuminated me, that today has become night? It is that you have danced among so many loves that each one has taken something from you, and they have left the beautiful physique, which I am not interested in loving.

There is only one thing left to conclude, that if the spirit of the well loved one is gone, it is why it flies on the wings of another love.