.Aire, en esta lenta tarde de verano
Tu recuerdo es una foto gris
Que las horas van difuminando
Que difÃcil dibujar tus rasgos
Medio dÃa después de partir (vámonos)
Aire, si tus ojos eran higos negros
Si los dientes gajos de limón
No recuerdo el arco de tus cejas
Ni siqui.
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