Sueños Del Cometa

It all started in January
To take flight,
Just like that, it came to pass
The time to begin.
Between gusts and frost,
I looked out the window
Of a street
Rarely visited by the sun.
As February left,
No longer the first
Of the many months
That lead me through
A life without plans
For later.
When March and spring,
The weather outside improved
And one always feels thirsty,
At least to try.
With luck there's April and wind, and
A thought sustains
Free and without forecasts
Of turning cloudy.
Keys of all birds
Things of butterflies.
Everything that calls, invites,
And will flutter around.
Tell me the secret,
Teach me to fly.

We resemble kites,
Holding onto the bumps
That the wind brings
To anyone who jokes with it.
Our own hand guides
An aerial journey at noon
And I happily hold onto the flight
Of my string, in my dreams
Of the paper comet.

I hang from the May sky
That looks at me askance
The time that my flight lasts
Something I don't know.
Since I don't know how long it lasts
I worry and it doesn't rush me
But, if I'm honest with you
I like to fly.
And rock in the currents
And dodge the sudden changes
And the good times that
I've felt myself rise
I don't trade them for security.

We're just kites
Avoiding the rebounds
That the wind sends
To anyone who plays with it.
If your own hand guides
A high flight at noon and
You fly holding
Soft and firm your string,
Today the wind invites:
Come and ride it!
Let's raise the paper kites.