END OF DREAM


José Araujo de Souza

It was no accident that the clock
on the wall stopped when it marked
exactly five minutes past
zero hour.
That was the time I stood
at the entrance door,
viewing your image
that was lost in the distance,
step by step, at the end of my dream.
That was the time that was spent
between the real and the cold of the night
and the fantasy I dreamed of,
before my awakening.
It was exactly the time
when I got lost,
not knowing whether to enter again,
or if the door was left wide open,
where I wanted to see
you arrive.
It is no accident that the clock
on the wall it stands still,
in exactly five minutes
zero hour.

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