I need to stop reading you at night, Alan. You will make me cry at work one of these nights. Maybe tonight.
Maybe it’s because I see your desire to be a poet. Maybe because arithmetic tells me I’m past forty as well. And possibly my time has passed. And I’m not very productive. And I’m way very too shy.
And poetry requires boldness and courage. The same as love, right?
Instead, maybe, I’ll keep this little wand, and hope one day I’ll make my story fly.
One day, I will be courageous, in this lifetime or the next.
Pablo