My hands look for the clear waters of my white mirror, painting a piano, a gold light to find you again beyond the rays of the river of dreams, to slither in the colours of another day, the next day of a season in bloom. I see the corolla of the summer that fades away, I caress the shadows of the waterlilies of the lakes and slide in this sweet water, the waves adorn my hair, the mirror closes up before this crystal painting, the veils of the sun wriggle on my skin, autumn commences softly in the frame of this frail memory.