The smells of grandpa's home
at the foot of those rocks that harbored
the soundtrack halfway through summer;
here in this island they visit me unexpectedly
those chords made of ocean
between fabrics of yesteryear and wood battered in salt.
Shoes on the stairs,
at the entrance to a beach,
taking me on a journey to my childhood
with the smell of my skin full
of sunscreen mixed in sand,
with the tickling of fleas,
asking us to jump in the sea,
to explore rocks that open up universes,
for me to continue dreaming with
even today.
