Vagabond

Trembling, his hands touched the heart of that vagabond, that one, who had nothing, only two hands to work with, that were like two stars, full of kisses under a balcony.

That one, who let out whispers, asleep in his drawer, crying his despondency in the night of his abandonment, wanting to take two doves and fly without forgiveness.

He was left alone, alone, no one saw him, only the stars and a moon shining under a dark sky; asleep in the dirty sheets of his alley.