short

next to you
love his latest
So the painter who knows what will go blind , night not sleeping
Just sees it in any sketch ,

looks for a long time
winding their eyes to it , brush touches the canvas , like the body of rod
But morning comes , pale paint

and there is an understanding
and there is no understanding of good , that happiness is always fit in the word " short ",
and life fit into the other ,
Amaro