La lluvia intenta derrotar al tiempo y las aceras. Ríen felices las gotas, desfilan calle abajo y se despiertan los tejados, las ventanas y los murmullos. Regresas mojado y simple. Traes la lluvia, las hojas de un otoño extinto y de una primavera que llena de flores mis sienes y mis tobillos. Comienzo a contarte
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