The Toy Box

These days, I like to think of you... You are a blue smile, a gourmet oasis, a sensual flash. These short poems are not messages in bottles cast adrift at sea, but rather waves of flowers with joyful foam blossoming spontaneously on the soil of your absence. This silence is no longer the toothless, icy prison of yesteryear, but a toy box full of children's cries, which, when the time comes, we open together, bickering and laughing...