Ilusão

Por um segundo ou dois, o sol nos cabelos claros reluziu como diamantes. E o toque quente das suas mãos nas minhas, a música alta no quadro mental - cada letra tão própria.
O assunto é um qualquer, assim como todos, assim como jamais será qualquer um assunto do qual tratemos. O vento vem e traz um gosto leve de chuva, do sol que se vai esconder em não mais do que algumas horas.
E mais do que estar nós somos, difícil conjugação, somos amantes ao cair da tarde como tem que ser em todo bom clichê. Esqueço a vida que havia, os problemas, que havia só - não há mais nada agora, estamos de mãos dadas.
Se fosse real, eu riria. Guardo a ilusão com cuidado, apenas mais um traço seu.


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