Caminando [un poema que no se detiene]
Primer paso el escalón,
de segundo la pisada,
que llegado al corredor,
encontraba la mirada.
De un duende siniestro,
con gafa y cremallera,
totalmente sin sentido,
ensuciando la madera.
Continuando mi camino,
a paso firme y moderado,
como me enseñó mi abuela,
la más vieja del condado.
Así son los niños buenos,
bufaba a correazos,
mientras mis piernas adoloridas,
se quejaban a cada paso.
Nice content.
Thanks! :D
Genial, me gustó tu poema, espero sigas compartiendo, gracias :)
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