a piece of paper in
with a simple pen
I drew a ladder,
studded with stars.
Beautiful golden stars.
Silver there was none.
I wanted a straight
to climb to the moon.
For up to the moon
and your eyes get dry,
me not worth the stars,
peldañitos as humble.
Is it because they are gold
in indigo sky?
just know that I serve
to get there.
and stars stars,
painted with love,
want to get to the moon
and fill it with color!
"Paper Cuts", by Pablo Neruda.
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