I Love to Write

And by when you think
that after so much
you´ve learned something,
your rebelious heart
mounts once more Roncinante
and you find yourself
defying windmills
with a smile as your spear
and your chest as a shield.

And by when you get defeated
as it was predictable
for any other wiser fool
but not for the fool you are,
you find in yourself
tears that you counted as dry.

And your heart comes back home
like teenager that is guilty
of a candor that shoud not
and of the dreams that couldn´t,
expecting a soup and a hug,
a pillow and an advise
to be heard and forgoten…

Then you remember
what you already new,
the lessons of past times,
the signals you ignored
with renewed ignorance,
a wishful one.
And that, even if true
that love is good,
it´s rarely enough
if ever is.