She smells like all the ingredients she put in those recipes of her,
so delicious that I want to inhale twice.
Embracing her existence as she is mine.
All those tears of her, are a discomfort for me,
those temples have vibes of my mother.
All the flowers in my garden are blossoming out of love,
they would wither if they don’t feel her sensations and compassion.
She is the end of December, she makes me heal
before the beginning of the happiness,
she holds my hand and it’s 1st of January.