A PIPA ...

 
 
                                                     Fim de tarde ... o sol já se foi ...
                                                     Ela sobe engalanada
                                                     com todas as cores desejadas.
                                                     Dança ao bater do vento
                                                     que sopra ligeiro e quente.
                                                     Cruza os ares altaneira,
                                                     de rabiola caprichada,
                                                     multicolorida de emoções,
                                                     cada vez que o menino
                                                     estica a linha, dá linha,
                                                     ziguezagueando no espaço
                                                     todinho azul do infinito,
                                                     deste generoso céu sem núvens.
                                                     Imponente, cruza com outras pipas
                                                     igualmente belas e coloridas,
                                                     pronta para enlaçar a rival.
                                                     Mostrando a toda gente
                                                     seu garbo, suas cores, seus amores,
                                                     num intrincado jogo de sedução ...
 
 
 
                                                                                  By, Nídia.
                                                                              @Mensageir@
                                                                              Rio,12/01/2003
                                                                                        11:35h.

 

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