Like a fairy tale

In the sky, the moon in half was just a major reference. I left the internet on the computer screen and went to rest your eyes in the starry sky diving.In a split second, I was traveling over distances unspeakable, rising to the highest possible, from high above, look for the brightness of your face you do not know. Me enough to listen to the sound of your voice and could follow him, as one who follows a trail known because we know who are the footprints. And running back, without having to guess the shape and form broad and fertile fields of imagination, where the poet creates, fantasy, daydream, dream ...
Your eyes have told me, are two patches of calm sea on a sunny morning. Do not know how is your mouth, but I have drawn here, where fantasies accumulate and grow bigger, your smile, your laughter loose, winning distances, coming very close. You almost can smell the perfume and without realizing it, experiment a saudade especially in its absence, as if we had been together for a lifetime.
You came softly, as the first lights of a brilliant day that will take the place of shyness in the morning and kissed my face with a ray of sun just warm.Loneliness hurt my self-imposed retirement was that of a bird that won a freedom that does not know what to do with it. I returned to the cage, where one day I sang duets with eternal love that assumed and found the cage empty. I did not know what to do with the sky, with the horizons.
The minstrel woke up and made me sing again.Provo, now presumed dead of emotions. They are more alive than ever because miracles do happen.When we least expect. My hopes that went green to yellow without the grace of our losses, take the first red colors of a chameleon of the passions of a love that came, came cramped, opened his arms and did the confiding warmth of complicity.
It seems a fairy tale ... "In a fairy tale / carpenter / alone with nothing / too broke / loved princess / most beautiful land / and made sure he / she was for nothing / but one day ..." I remembered the song, arranged for the Brazilian version "If I Were a Carpenter." The difference is that kiss was your voice that woke me, pulled me out of lethargy of laziness in a patient waiting, awkwardly, condemned for a thousand absurdities and inconsistencies.
I'm alive! Pulse! My heart beats faster, my chest looks like it will explode. Fairy! Fairy Godmother of my miracle, this awakening pleasant, that waits for a line, two, thousand, words full of shy, awkward, amid fears on the rights everybody has to be happy. We are. And it's good to conjugate the verb in first person plural, without regard to the rules, for conventions, to the boundaries that society provides, as if it were possible to imprison the thought, wills incarcerate, confine and contain impulses fantasies. I am your miracle, you're my biggest dream to return to being happy.
I do not care if tomorrow when a new day dawn, I awaken to the reality of this story and it all ends on the last page of a book that we wish would never end. No matter. I lived a dream, I was part of a story. Even if you never hold in your arms that you never push the lap, I held you, I lay on your side, I love you and I experienced a happiness that only live who get into a fairy tale. Fairy!