Guestbook (1)

My mother came to Earth, In the hope To break the bad and the good sewing, Scissors and needle in hand. His quest to qualify Rainbow and tenderness He made a garden of hope From which sprang three lavender, That force coo, Balsamic hands, Circumvent the voyages of the past. What stuff! These hearts They were not humble Or simple As she had hoped. Today, The gray days are gone And our souls will reunite ... Mother, Now you no worries! Laugh of life Forget the diets, And harvest the flowers with verses of love That was never written in vain by: RENÉ CHACÓN LINARES