by Luis Ullán
(Salamanca (Spain))
While Red Ivy climbs convinced
from the abyss to the horizon,
disguised in silver because of a lost bronze,
draws short thoughts in the playground
-home of the sinners-
with faceless mates and tied hands,
watched by a hired killer,
covered in blue, deep scars.
Defied for an obtuse mind,
Ivy flung itself in flames
behind a tear-softened sunset,
leaving a white, magic trail.
Goodbye to one of a kind,
to the eternal hope without name
disappeared in obscurity and pain.
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