Drops of rain and dust were falling, as the air was screaming through the leaves. While you were waiting in the river
dressed in red,
holding hands with tears...
Wind was covering your face, as you were hugging the hope of the place to call home,
like a butterfly who flies against the row.
And desperation has no more...
As the first drops were falling onto your face, a fierce fire,
without discrimination, the dress turned to black,
to fit the sky...
And the river changed its row, the leaves stopped to wisper.
Before your tender face turned to white... so pure.
As you were no more hoping for love...
