New Times

I wish I remember more,

of the year that passed,

when my studies stopped,

in the search of an answer.

What a strange first youth,

that has been,

but too much forgotten.

Walking in the night,

painting in the dark,

riding in a cold sunrise,

sleeping in a tent few hours,

driving in the chaos,

eating in a canteen in smoking,

playing games,

talking, and talking,

morning, after meetings,

in the evening,

joining in a party.

It's not a goodbye because it went,

but a smile for what was,

to not forget,

while building the new,

in even better times.