THE NEXT STATION


Our life has stopped anywhere,
In any season.
There was no fuel ... Love.

We try, we try and we almost succeed,
But the locomotive parked.
He lacked complicity.

All our desires, dreams came out of the carriages,
They abandoned us, our intimacy was over.
We make strangers, cold insensitive to our relationship.

The train of our life will start,
Only one will.
No tears will follow.
There will also be a farewell nod.

                                                                 Francisco Gouveia

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