wrinkles on the forehead

it was the first day of Winter
the newborn north wind embraced us
we were tired and cold
father picked up the last Autumn leaf and asked
and the leaf
answered

the voice was weak, but approaching her slowly ,
as a light caress on the face
the leaf began her song

wrinkles on the forehead
embroideries, silent transit spaces
from not yet to already forgotten
just like so we spend our lives

wrinkles on the forehead
the deepest one keep and save the scent of the existence
the deepest one of the great journey, hold the essence
like so she sang her nursery rhyme the last Autunm leaf

like so she sang, and father did not hesitate,
placing the leaf resting against his forehead whispering he said

these are my wrinkles,  please caress them
and take them
take them
take them
away

Marco  Bo