Dying with the Ladybug
It's all in the details, constant on the walls of our days,
building monuments in words, stones and concrete;
do not fear the moment, privilege to your observation,
take comfort in sleep, espouse the voluptuous seat.
The rush was a ruse, a push to keep you dazed,
and you ignored the mere bump on your very path,
keeping your blinds crushed to the enchanted vision,
numbing an imagination, child, pleading for a future.
Your foot buried a budding rose, kingdom of the ladybug,
your every step pushed aside the complaints,
so the dream would not come alive thus;
you too, this day, died just a little more.