Traveling through memories
I have traveled through my memories again.
With my hands, the aromas, my senses.
I have listened to all my stories again
and observed each photo that I recorded on my retinas.
I have felt again the tickling of those twigs
that danced with the wind, in a summer that is still alive in my memory.
I have reopened my notebooks,
to travel through old maps
and to go over again each step that I have drawn along the way.
I have spoken to my inner child again and,
I have even flown again with the wings
of the butterflies of first love.
I've danced with innocence again, I've smelled the scent of the paper from that book that left its mark on me. I've reread the phrase a woman sent to the Universe, with which I knew that "impossible" is just a prelude to "incredible."
MEMORIES
I've unpacked a suitcase full of emotions to return home, to dance on tiptoe among the stars and tell the world who I am.
I have a light laugh and intact desire,
the streets full of art and an emotion
locked in my chest, that beats strongly
when I hear the clapping.
WHISPERS
I'm back, because the best thing about memories is making them.
Because the best thing about life is living it.
And because the best thing about the past is
that it makes us who we are today.
But above all, I've returned because memories inspire the future, and mine begins now.