Life, here in the surroundings of my white walls,
the walls that watch me while I pray, while I sing,
while I dance and work in my little room, while
I cry. These white walls they know my life, only
they cry with me, or sing or pray or dance, they give
my life the warm feelings of hands.
The colors of my works the fabrics, the pen
that move my hands, the architect of my bones,
the father, the "I AM", they all live in me.
Life, life is my big question! , life is the
I AM, and the I AM is life.
I gather here in my room all of my works,
the good, the bad and the worse,
they come alive with my help.
Life in these white walls, pink I rather say;
“I love pink!”
My sink full of dishes waiting to
be washed, the flowers on my table growing roots,
the doors and windows always on guard,
the lamps that never cease to give me light,
the sofa so exhausted of my exhausting body,
the tree near my window poking at me,
then the cry of a puppy I hear it all the time.
My shop my objects they dream
and have their own mind, they wear the colors
of life, they dress up and move my soul,
I love how they love me back.