Postcards

The mind plays a radical attempt of retribution
Without legitimizing a sense of contentment
Like a bird's nest on a tree during summer
And the leaves falling off like human hair during autumn
letting them fly to an unforeseeable sky above

When you close your eyes and enter an esoteric dream
where the vision becomes hazy and death is no more feared
And the clouds kiss the ocean at the horizon
Only the mountains remain as the witness
And you are a strong adherent of obscurantism

When you get hit by the morning's first sun rays
And the rainbows that make you blind
Just like tracing the contours of her body
And you take a look at the smirk on her face
an explosion with a blinding flash and it's gone

A pack of cigarette and a drink from a neat whiskey glass
Losing yourself to the sound of sporadic storms
Painting a picture of thunder in your mind
Shaky hands blemishing a spotless white sheet
And postcards to a concealed address that chose its own recipients
And there's the last one in yellow and green