Casa Vazia

Por Meriam Lazaro

                                               Paredes pálidas
                                               movem saudades,
                                               alicerce do tempo
                                               que avança inclemente.
                                               Rosto pintado,
                                               palhaço triste,
                                               como tantos.
                                               Por que abrir a porta?
                                               Todos já foram.
                                               A libido
                                               a traça
                                               a fome
                                               a troça
                                               o nome,
                                               enfim,
                                               resta esquecido...
                                               A memória
                                               prega peças,
                                               mas sempre foi assim.
                                               Seletiva,
                                               escolhe a vida.
                                               Outras, o ócio,
                                               a estética
                                               e o instante lá fora.
                                               Contempla a natureza
                                               como o primeiro homem.
                                               Alma arejada,
                                               sai a palidez,
                                               inventa a rosa...
                                               Pela janela entra a vertigem.