I only have ten fingers
and one letter, which stands
in the drawer of my life,
because I have no red love in the pink world
nor green hope in the gray everyday,
nor white light,
which will bring me to you.
I have no path, where to start
nor a place to get to.
I only have ten fingers
and a letter,
to which I return to who knows how many times,
to write, correspond and rewrite.
For you and only for you.