Martina who knows where
she always taken below the world hanging around her;
and laughter with tears in his eyes,
and who forgets the most?
And its myths scattered on the agenda,
and among his myths,
his friend favorite poet;
useless … but as myth,
only now like a traveler lost to ricercar “if” and “maybe”,
and in her mind,
I see her beautiful face and her smile.
Then life does everything by itself, and mixes the plastic stars, who do not see ever since Centocelle.
You talking to the cat with his drawings, she always head and shoulders above the idiots, she with her “Tesò”, with its “tranqui”.
Same everywhere now just fine I wish them always and with anyone,
that she was not anyone at least for me,
always “Number One”,
thanks Marty !! Marco Vasselli Martina Cioccio © 2013